


the art of leaving and saying goodbye

by Verasteine



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 115,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2485022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2007 is the year Danny learns that choice can be the worst kind of heartbreak. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic began life when I said to smirnoffmule, kilawater, and eumelia that I had an idea for a Hawaii Five-0 AU, but not enough talent to write it. They alternately encouraged or mocked me for this statement, and, lamenting that no one seemed to have the same brilliant idea, I finally sat down to write it. This was July 4, 2011 and I wrote the first 9K in a day. I wrote the final 5K on December 30, 2011. 
> 
> The people I have to thank for their support and help are numerous. The abovementioned three for their generous lending of listening ears and beta support, in kilawater's case reading along and asking for constant updates, smirnoffmule for letting me crash at his place and betaing the first ten pages while I was there, though he's not into the fandom, perspi for jumping in and betaing this monster in completion. I apologise for the commas and the Britishisms, seriously! eumelia, for selflessly allowing me to use her email as a dumping ground for any and all issues I had with the fic, as well as cheerleading me many, many days. I couldn't have done it without you and your gay flirting tips with beer bottles., bb! Your support was and is above and beyond, and, hey, we'll always have Jersey ;).
> 
> My twitter peeps, particularly idamus, who always had a supportive word whenever I announced a new target had been reached, and thrace_adams and her partner for providing the information on the US Navy that hopefully makes this story as realistic as my fantasy can make it. Thank you both; any mistakes that might have crept in are my own.
> 
> Sadly, over the course of writing this, some of the content has been jossed by TPTB. While I tried to include as many new details as I could, some things would simply require a rewrite of the entire fic. Therefore, this version of Steve never spent time at the Army-Navy Academy nor stayed with his Uncle Joe, and Danny never had a dog while married to Rachel.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

  
_January 2, 2007_

Danny holds up a single finger as he slides onto the bar stool. "One beer, _please_."

Ariana nods, uncapping it and sliding it across the bar without asking if he wants a glass; she's served cops all her life and knows him well enough. He drains half the bottle in one go, and she takes a moment to lean across to him, one elbow on the bar.

"Rough shift, Danny?"

"Don't talk to me about it," Danny replies, waving a hand in her direction. "Two days after New Year's, and what, the year has decided to tell me that, no, really, this is not going to be a good one for me. Two days, Ariana. _Two days_. I couldn't get two months?"

She shrugs, a half smile curving her lips. He sees her eyes flick away to the other side of the bar, where someone is holding up a hand to attract her attention, and back. "Maybe this is the year's way of telling you all the shit comes early, and the rest will be beautiful."

"Huh." Danny takes another sip of his drink. "Yeah, I don't think so."

"Pessimist."

She turns away and goes to the other customer while Danny takes another sip. The beer is cool and soothing on his throat, allowing him to focus on physical sensation, not the thoughts of the child abduction case he's been working for the last two days, the call coming in at four in the morning, waking him and Rachel. She'd grumbled, again, when he dragged himself out of a bed he'd barely got into two hours before, and since then, he has seen her only briefly this morning at breakfast.

He knows it's a sign, knows his marriage is going to be in trouble if he doesn't find some way to get his life in order, doesn't find some way to make his job and his home life match up. They both work long hours, they've got Gracie to worry about, and sometimes, sometimes Danny thinks it would all be easier if he married a Jersey girl who knew what to expect of life with a Jersey cop, instead of his beautiful, sweet, upper class English wife.

He doesn't want to trade Rachel, trade Grace, for the world, but life, life should be easier.

Something makes him look up from his musings, a cop's instinct for changes in the atmosphere, and he sees Ariana at the other end of the bar, her voice louder than it was a few minutes ago, and the customer she's been serving has his hand wrapped tightly around her wrist.

Danny puts the beer bottle down on the bar and slides off his seat, already resigned at having to deal with this, at the universe giving him a sign that clearly, this is not his year and he should just go to bed and sleep until it is 2008.

"Everything okay, Ariana?"

She meets his eyes with a grateful look, and Danny turns to the guy who's still got her arm in a death grip. "You wanna let go there, friend?"

Dark, cold eyes meet his, the controlled fury in them nearly making Danny recoil, making him shift and lean his hand on the gun still sitting on his hip. Then the man blinks, lets go of Ariana's arm. "Sorry."

She rubs her wrist and Danny can see white splotches on her skin where he's squeezed her arm, and he exchanges a brief look with her, inclines his head towards the door. She shrugs.

"Thank you for that apology to the lady, but next time, just don't grab people, yeah?"

The guy turns his eyes on him, taking Danny in, still with the anger simmering just under the surface. If he'd been a perp, that kind of intensity would have made Danny call for backup. He can feel himself being sized up, refuses to back down, meeting the stare with anger of his own.

"You're a cop."

Danny rolls his eyes to the ceiling for a moment. "Well, somebody give the man a medal. What gave it away? My sparkling personality, or the fact that this is the best known cop bar in Jersey?"

A quick eyebrow raise, and the man's face is set in a bland mask, only betrayed by those damnable eyes.

"Oh, okay, that gives it away. You're not from around here. Fine. Let's see some ID, buddy."

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

 _Show me yours_ \-- Danny mouths the words as he thinks them, shrugs, and uses his left hand to pull his badge out of his pocket, flipping it open so the guy can read it. The badge is given the same attention as Danny was, intense scrutiny and assessment, and Danny flips it shut and pockets it again. "All right, your turn. _Slowly_ ," he adds.

Mystery guy doesn't quirk an eyebrow at that, glancing briefly at where Danny's hand is clearly still resting on his gun, and uses his left hand to very calmly reach under his shirt, splaying his fingers so it's clear he's removing something small and light, not something big and heavy and filled with bullets. Danny appreciates this at the same time he's wondering how often the guy's done this before, because innocent citizens don't pull their IDs out like that.

Instead of the driver's license he was expecting he gets a badge, flipped open and held close enough that Danny can recognize a military ID. Lieutenant Steven J. McGarrett, born 1977, the ID listing his station as Norfolk, and that's quite a drive from here. "All right, Lieutenant, what're you doing on my patch?"

McGarrett glances around the bar quickly, as if to say, _this is yours?_ , gives Danny another mocking raise of the eyebrow, and Danny's had enough.

"You can answer me, or you can find yourself thrown out on your ass. Or even better, if I don't like whatever you do next, I'm calling this in and you can find yourself being hauled out of a Jersey jail cell by the MPs."

McGarrett's eyes narrow, fury smoothing back over the amusement, and Danny feels a little dizzy with how quickly he shifts gears. He hasn't forgotten why he's here talking to the guy in the first place instead of drinking his quickly warming bottle of beer. "All right, let's go."

He's reaching for McGarrett's arm, intending to pull him off the bar stool, but his wrist is captured in that same iron grip, bones grinding together under his skin, and Danny is abruptly aware he took his hand off his gun to do this.

"Don't touch me."

His growl is harsh and low, a threat from someone who's used to making them, who's calm and assured over his simmering anger, and who absolutely will follow through. Danny knows all of this in the space of one second to the next, and reaches for that same level of calm. "Let go of me before I decide to book you for assaulting a police officer."

The fingers around his wrist flex, and he can see how this guy intimidated Ariana when very few things do. Finally, they peel off and Danny resists the impulse to rub his skin, instead resting his hand on the butt of his gun again. "I don't know what your deal is here, I mean, I get that you're angry but neither me nor the lady did anything to piss you off, so taking it out on either of us is not cool, all right? If you came here looking for a brawl, and hey, I get that impulse, I really do, but go do it in one of the seedier places around here, and not in my favorite joint, you hear me?"

He can't read McGarrett's expression now, the cold fury contained enough to be invisible, McGarrett's face back into a taut mask that betrays only that he's hiding what he's thinking, and Danny tenses for a fight.

Then McGarrett breathes out in a rush. "Yeah, all right." He slides off the seat, glances at Ariana. "Sorry again."

She nods, and Danny sees the tension in her. He's used to watching her run the place smoothly even when the football crowds are in, and he knows how she's feeling right now. He follows McGarrett to the door, making sure the guy actually leaves, and when they're outside in the night air, the snow crunching under their feet, McGarrett turns back to him.

Danny's hand inches to his gun without thought, and he catches the quick flicker of McGarrett's eyes, noting what Danny is doing. "Hey, man, I'm sorry."

Danny raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, all right. Clear off, would you?"

"Yeah." There's something dejected in the way McGarrett steels his shoulders; Danny would feel almost sorry for the guy if he wasn't too busy being both angry at having his night interrupted and riding a residual edge of adrenaline that the confrontation has left him with.

"Look," Danny says on impulse.

McGarrett turns to him.

"Word of advice. Don't get into a bar fight. You'll like yourself better in the morning."

There's a snort, and then something that's not unlike the ghost of a smile shows on McGarrett's features. "You don't know me."

Danny narrows his eyes. "Nah, I don't," he says easily, then adds, "But this is _my_ home turf."

The eyes are sizing him up again, but Danny doesn't intimidate that easily. "Good night, Detective."

"Yeah, night." Danny doesn't watch him walk away, turns back inside instead to rant at his lukewarm beer.

\--

"I don't _know_ , Rachel, it's not like my job comes with clear nine to five hours!"

"Well, neither does mine, Daniel." She's got her hands on her hips and her eyes are blazing, and even though they're fighting _again_ and Danny hates it; he can't help but see how beautiful she is, can't help but want her as much as he hates her right now.

"Yeah, well, my parents are on vacation, so there go your convenient babysitters, and someone needs to look after our kid."

"Yes, _our_ child, Daniel, you were around for that, weren't you?" She's arching an eyebrow at him, and he wants to say how much he doesn't want to fight with her, wants to tell her that they're headed down the wrong path, but when he opens his mouth that's not what comes out.

"Was I around for-- Yes, Rachel, I was fucking around for that, what the fuck, you think I never do something for my kid? I'm there for her, I watch her, too, I worked the late shift for _months_ , you know that, fuck--"

"Will you _please_ ," she hisses, "stop swearing? Grace can hear you."

He lowers his voice abruptly at the thought of his five year old daughter overhearing their argument. "I can't help getting switched to the early shift; do you think I'm the only father in the department?"

"No." She runs a hand through her hair and sighs. "Daniel--"

He resents her use of his full name which used to endear him; he knows what this means, what all of this means. He sits down on the edge of the bed. "We need to stop doing this."

"Yes."

He looks up at her and she meets his eyes. She looks tired and he feels tired, and he doesn't have time to continue this argument. He's still got this abduction case and he knows, knows that no matter how many hours they put in, this kid's going to wind up dead, and he doesn't want to take his work home, but his daughter's in the next room. "We should get away from it all for a bit."

"A vacation? You think that's going to solve this?"

"I don't know!" He throws his hands up. "Do you expect me to have all the answers? I don't fucking know, Rachel."

She sits down on the bed next to him and leans her shoulder against his. "I'm worried," she says, her voice soft now, and Danny wants to echo that worry, but he can't get the words across his lips. He turns his head to kiss her hair. "I have to go."

"I know." She gets up and he stands, feeling awkward, not wanting to leave them behind like this, knowing they've been doing it too often.

"We'll talk tonight, yeah?"

"All right. Say goodbye to Grace before you go."

"Of course." He goes into the other room, where Grace is brushing the hair of her pink toy pony, and she looks up at him with large eyes. "Hey, Gracie."

"Daddy, are you and mommy angry?"

 _Oh, man_. "No, monkey." He is angry, he's always angry, the feeling brimming under his skin, but he's not ever going to taint his daughter with that. "No, we're just trying to figure some stuff out, okay? It's gonna be okay."

He hugs her, wants to make her believe him with sheer force of will, and when he leaves the house, he wonders who he's kidding.

\--

Trent is already at his desk when Danny comes in, and he slides a file across to Danny as soon as he sits down.

"What?" Danny snaps.

"Good morning to you, too, partner."

"Whatever, Massaro." He opens the file, which contains a forensics report. "The fibers?"

Trent nods. "Yeah."

Danny skims the summary. "Nothing useful?"

"No."

Danny scrubs a hand across his face. Another lead gone. He knows in his heart of hearts that this one, this case, is going to be one of those cases that haunts the department, the one that gets away, the one they won't be able crack when they all want to.

Tyrone Jackson, aged seven, disappeared around one a.m. on New Year's Day, as he was walking down the road to say happy new year to a friend down the block. The entire street was out partying, yet the kid managed to go missing in the space of a hundred yards, surrounded by neighbors who knew him. Parents called the cops at two, when they realized he'd never arrived at the friend's house, and the first black and white on the scene had called for detectives because they got a vibe off the case.

They've done everything by the book, and yet they have nothing to go on. Police procedure means they should have leads, that's what procedure is for, and Danny knows it, believes it. Forensics have turned up nothing, interviews have turned up nothing, it's like the kid walked out of his house, said hello to people three doors down, and vanished between that house and the one on the corner of the street.

Danny hates it, hates thinking about Tyrone Jackson every time he lets Gracie out of his sight, knows that that's what's going to happen if they don't crack it. In his heart he knows Tyrone is dead, knows the odds, how many days it's been, what kind of person abducts a seven year old.

They don't leave witnesses.

"Come on." A hand lands on Danny's shoulder, and Trent is looking down at him. "Let's get some coffee and breakfast and think this through again."

"Yeah." Danny stands, pulls his coat back on when he's barely taken it off, and follows his partner out of the room. It seems pointless, but he knows they have to do something, anything, or they'll all go mad.

\--

"I dropped Grace at Matt's house, I've got to stay in New York, there's this thing--"

"At Matt's?" Danny interrupts. "You dropped her at my brother's house, my brother who has no clue about kids and probably feeds her candy for dinner?"

"Well, at least someone is feeding her," Rachel snaps back. "What am I meant to do, Danny? You're not here when you said you would be."

"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair, smoothes it down again right after. "Yeah, fuck, I know, but we got a break in the case, and--"

"I don't want to bloody hear it," Rachel hisses. "I don't want to know about the dead kids and the people who got killed, about the shootings and the bullets and, god, I _hate_ this country, I hate it."

Danny holds the phone away from his ear to look at it, brings it back to listen to the silence. "Rachel--"

"Shit, I'm sorry." She breathes in audibly, and Danny can see how she's calming herself down in his mind's eye. "I'm sorry, Danny."

"Yeah." He's taking a deep breath of his own, can see Trent gesturing at his watch. "Okay. I've got to go, I'll pick Gracie up at Matt's when I'm done, don't worry about it."

"Thank you." She sounds truly grateful. "I may stay in New York overnight, we have a takeover, I--"

"You don't need to explain." Danny feels magnanimous when he knows he isn't; he should have done this years ago, should have started doing this years ago, before they started tearing apart what they have between them.

"Go," Rachel says softly, and he nods.

"See you when I see you." He hangs up before she can say something that might break his heart.

\--

When the planes hit the towers, Danny was with Rachel at the gynecologist, watching Rachel get her first scan, getting his first vision of little Grace. He could barely believe that was his baby, his kid, and he talked to Rachel's stomach as she laughed at him, and then his pager went off.

He pulled out his cell phone to make the call, and it didn't go through. He used the doctor's landline to call the precinct instead, and standing at the desk, looking at Rachel watching the ultrasound screen and smiling, his world turned upside down.

He didn't see Rachel again for another six days, talked to her on the phone twice, and she told him about the two co-workers who had been at a meeting in the second tower, who were dead and whose funeral they would have to attend, and he was numb, numb with the news.

He coughed for six weeks after, and Rachel had lines around her eyes from worry and exhaustion, and he started hiding the doctor's visits and the dust in his lungs from her, because she was carrying Gracie and she shouldn't be so stressed.

\--

He carries Grace from the car, asleep, tucks her into her own bed, and she wakes at that, looks at him in confusion. "Danno?"

"Go back to sleep," he says automatically, stroking her hair out of her eyes. She closes her eyes, her complete trust in him shaking him to his core, and she settles into the pillows.

He leaves her nightlight on as he closes the door to her room, walks down the stairs to lock the front door, check the windows, lock the back door. There's a hint of sirens in the far distance, there always are, this is New Jersey, and he turns the key on a quick prayer for the safety of whoever is out there tonight.

He drags himself upstairs to an empty bedroom, switches on the light by his side of the bed. He brushes his teeth, ignores his own reflection in the mirror, strips off his clothes and pulls on a t-shirt before sliding between the sheets.

The bed is cold, unlike the times he's used to sliding into it coming off the late shift, Rachel already warm and asleep, the difference in their working hours killing their sex life.

He should sleep the few hours until dawn, but he stares at the ceiling, trying to see a way out when there isn't one. He closes his eyes out of willpower and falls asleep, in the end, to the images playing on the inside of his eyelids.

\--

Rachel calls to hear Grace's voice in the morning, and Danny resents her for a moment, resents the comfortable hotel room she's in and the way she can get Grace to smile when his kid's been nothing but grumpy to him all morning.

Grace hands the phone back to him, her eyes bright and sparkling now, and Danny says, "Yes?" harsher than he means to.

"Good morning to you, too, Daniel."

"Shut up." He sighs, reins himself in before this gets out of hand, before Grace hears more than she needs to. "Sorry."

"Danny..."

"I don't blame you," he says, talking over whatever she's going to say next, and knowing he doesn't mean what he is saying. "It's okay."

"All right." She's silent for a beat. "I'll be home on time, so if you..."

"I'll get her to school," Danny replies. "I, eh, I don't know yet, but it'll be late, probably, this case, it's--"

"Yes." She cuts him off; she doesn't want to hear, doesn't want to share his worries. He resents her the luxury, wonders if the answer to his problems is just getting out of his job, and then what would he do? He can't imagine being anyone else.

"I love you," he tries.

"Me too," Rachel says, soft and wistful, and yeah, Danny feels that, feels it the same way. He hangs up.

\--

They find a crime scene, but no body; blood, but not enough of it to draw a conclusion. Danny goes to the parents' house, tries to break the news as best he can, bringing the CSI tech for saliva samples.

Mrs. Jackson breaks, quietly, sobs tearing through her body while her husband tries to look stoic and fails, and Danny wants to tell him to give it up, no one cares right now, no one will judge him. He's outside of it, looking in, not the one who can tell either of them what to do, just the man who tells him that their worst fears are true, but there's no way to know for sure.

"I'm sorry," he says, because it's the only thing he has, not because it'll do any good.

Dark eyes meet his, and all Danny can do is hold that gaze. "Thank you," Mr. Jackson says. "For telling us."

His voice is flat. Danny nods, glances at the tech, who's packing up her kit. "If you have any questions, if there's anything..." Danny hands them his card. It's the wife who takes it, smoothing her fingers over the bit of cardboard, worrying the edges of it.

"Thank you," she says, echoing her husband, and walks the two of them to the door.

When it closes behind them, Taylor, the tech, lets out an audible breath. "Never gets easy."

"No," Danny replies absently. _I just told them their kid is as good as dead. I've known it all along, and I've just told them_. He doesn't say anything. He flexes his fingers, balls his hands to fists and wants to hit something, because this is not supposed to happen, none of this, if he has anything to do with the world, kids come home to parents and are never hurt.

"See you around, Detective."

"Yeah." He waves her off, gets into his car, and sits there for a full minute before starting the engine.

\--

The bar is quiet, like it always is after the holiday period, and Ariana gives him a smile when she watches him come in. Danny doesn't smile back; he has a feeling that if he'd try, everything is going to show in his face. He inclines his head to her and heads to the bar.

He sees him before he gets there, McGarrett, sitting near the wall just like he did last time, nursing a single bottle of beer sitting on top of a coaster. Danny freezes.

"What the fuck?"

McGarrett looks up and their eyes meet. The guy's face is inscrutable and Danny hates that, hates him right now, stirring up trouble where Danny just wants peace and quiet.

He goes over to McGarrett, slides onto the bar stool next to him. "What the hell are you doing here?" he says conversationally.

A quick sideways glance, a drink of his beer, and McGarrett places the bottle precisely dead centre on the coaster before looking up. "Wanted a drink. Seemed like the place to get one."

"What did I tell you last time?" Danny shoots back. "This is my favorite joint, so you take yourself and your trouble elsewhere, you understand me, Lieutenant? Because I still haven't decided not to bust you for what happened last time, and if I make up my mind about that, you're not going to like what happens next."

McGarrett raises his eyebrows, looking supremely unimpressed, so smug Danny could hit him right now. "Really?"

"Really? Really, is all he says. _Yes_ , really, really, I am telling you, you are two seconds away from getting arrested, my friend. Two seconds."

Ariana places a bottle on the bar in front of him, lays her hand on his arm. "It's okay, I said he could stay. He asked."

 _He asked_. Danny is too busy gasping for air in his anger to vocalize the words when McGarrett pulls out his wallet and lays a few bills on the bar. "Why don't you let me buy you that bottle over there, and we'll call it even?"

He shoves the bills back across the bar. "Ariana runs a tab for me, you schmuck."

"What did you just call me?"

There's not enough anger or irritation behind the words, just disbelief. The guy's forgotten Danny's seen him angry, seen him with the sort of fury that kills people, that makes good men do bad things, the sort of fury that's sitting uneasily under Danny's skin right now, in Danny's veins. He wants a quiet drink, not this guy with the piercing eyes and the expressive eyebrows and the easy charm. " _Schmuck_ ," Danny enunciates carefully. "I called you a schmuck, babe, that's what we do here in Jersey."

McGarrett shakes his head, slowly, smiling a little as if he can't believe Danny is real. And Danny is real, Danny is right here, supremely pissed off as well as angry, there are levels to his anger, it's so bad. "Okay, man."

"Oh my god." He turns in his seat, exactly ninety degrees until he faces the guy dead on. "I _do not_ want _you_ in this bar." He gestures at himself and then at their environment. "I don't care, supremely do not care, that you want a drink. You can go home via the 7-11 and drink on your own. Or you can go down the road to Pete's, which sucks, but it sells the same bottles Ariana here does so you would fit right in."

"Look, hey," and McGarrett puts a hand on Danny's arm, warm through his shirt, and Danny stares at that hand, stares at the guy in front of him, at the grey eyes, soft now instead of hard with anger, "I don't know what I did to piss you off, I mean, other than last time, which I know was my fault, and I said I'm sorry, so... Can we just let it rest? You can go back to your side of the bar and glare at me from there, and I promise not to try and provoke you."

"My side of the bar?" Danny latches on to the nearest thing that irritates him, because the hand is still on his arm and those eyes are still looking at him, and they are nice eyes, they are the sort of eyes that makes Danny notice them, notice who they belong to, all six feet of him, and this hasn't happened to him in years. "My side-- what is this, kindergarten, are we dividing the playground now?"

A hint of a smile tugs at McGarrett's mouth. "Do you ever not run off at the mouth?"

"Do I--" Danny repeats it for the hell of it, repeats it for the way those eyes start to sparkle, and he notices long lashes and the way that, when McGarrett threatens to smile, there are small lines at the corners which are kind of beautiful. He knows he has to stop, knows he has to get out of here, has to go home and forget this ever happened. "Did I not say something about wanting you out of here? Why are you still here, huh?"

The sparkle is gone, the lines of amusement are gone, the mask is back and the eyes narrow. "Are you the sheriff in this town or something? Forget dividing the playground, is this like the Wild West where I'm declared an outlaw? It's a free country, man."

Danny throws up his hands, takes a long drink from the beer to regroup and clear his head. Before he can come up with something to say, McGarrett picks up his own bottle and slides off his seat. He leans in and says, "I'm taking my drink to go sit over in that corner--" he points to a booth in the far corner from the door "--where you can keep an eye on me but I won't offend you with my presence, okay."

"Whatever," Danny says, but he misses the warmth of McGarrett's hand on his arm when he goes.

\--

The bills are still on the bar and Ariana swipes them off the counter along with the coaster before wiping a cloth over the bar with a practiced hand.

"Ah, shit," Danny says out loud when he realizes McGarrett still wound up buying him that beer. The guy's still in the corner, drinking alone and in silence, looking like he's sulking for all his worth. Danny hates him.

"So what is with you, huh?" Ariana cocks her head at him. "This because of the case you're working on, or because that guy over there likes needling you?"

Danny scoffs, thumping his foot against the bar. "I don't know."

"Yeah." Ariana lifts his bottle, wipes the counter in front of him with a hard enough swipe that Danny pulls his elbow away and leans back, glaring at her. "Tell it to someone who'll believe it, babe."

"Whatever." Danny takes another drink, draining the bottle. "How about you give me a beer I actually paid for, huh?"

She exchanges his bottle easily. "Look, Danny, none of my business, but you were pretty rude there, even for your standards."

"What do you care?"

"I like you not kicking up a fuss in my establishment. Also, that guy was really nice and polite about asking if he could drink here and apologizing for the last time. So sue me, but I like decent customers like that."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm not a decent customer?" Danny is beginning, sheepishly, to see what he could have done better in this situation, but he's not about to let on.

"Something like that." She sticks her tongue out at him.

"All right. Give me another bottle." She uncaps it, handing it to him. "Let's see what Lieutenant McSulk over there says to a free drink."

\--

"It's been brought to my attention," Danny says once he's ambled over, "that I may not have shown you our famous Jersey hospitality."

McGarrett looks up, squinting a little. "From what I've seen of Jersey, you fit right in."

"Asshole," Danny replies amicably and sits down, sliding the second bottle over the table. "Cheers."

McGarrett picks it up, turning it from one side to the other with a suspicious frown.

"What is with you? What is your brain like?" Danny snaps. "Do I look like I'd slip you a roofie? Jesus."

This gets him a raise of the eyebrows, and Danny wishes he'd really stop doing that. "Do you really want to know?"

"What?"

"What my brain is like."

There's that smile again, those lines at the corners of his eyes, the lines that Danny is not drunk enough to want to kiss, yet. "No, no, I don't want to know, forget I said that. Drink your beer."

McGarrett leans over to clink his bottle against Danny's. "Thanks."

"Yeah, whatever. Returning the favor, since you bought me a stealth beer, like the stealth soldier that you are."

"Sailor," McGarrett says a little petulantly. "I'm in the Navy."

Danny raises his eyebrows at that. "Well, go you, hotshot."

McGarrett doesn't reply to that, picking at the label on his bottle instead. "So you're a cop?"

"Yeah." Danny takes a drink. "Though some days I wish I wasn't."

A quick sideways glance. "Today one of those days?"

Danny meets his eyes briefly. "People ever tell you you're perceptive? Yeah, today is one of those days. Hell, this week's been nothing but those days."

"Sorry, man."

"Yeah, well, you're Navy, guess you've been there." He watches idly as McGarrett runs a thumb over the bottle, up the neck, round the rim. He tears his eyes away, stares at his own drink.

"Yeah, I've been there." It's a statement of fact, not cold, but resigned. Danny wants to ask but they barely know each other, and he should hate this guy, he really should.

"So what're you doing in Jersey? We're not exactly the location of choice for sailors on leave."

"I had a thing." There's a brief gesture. "You don't want to know. Anyway, I decided to stay because there's no point in spending half my leave on a plane."

"How long've you got?"

"Another two days." The thumb runs back up the neck of the bottle, methodically, absently, like McGarrett has no idea he's doing it. It makes Danny shift in his seat, makes his imagination go places, and no, he should be home already, he should have been there to kiss Gracie goodnight, he should be with his wife.

"You look," Danny says, infusing as much sarcasm in his voice as he can, "like you're enjoying it."

McGarrett turns his head, thumb pausing, Danny notes, and looks straight at him. His eyes are wide open for a moment, the emotions in them so easy to read that Danny knows he's caught him off guard, knows he's not meant to see this. It makes him look vulnerable, for a second, and then it's gone. "It's easier when you stay busy. Shore leave kind of ruins my rhythm."

Danny laughs in spite of the moment. "Ruins your rhythm? Time off ruins your-- What are you, like one of those fitness junkies who's addicted to endorphins?"

There's a quick smile, a momentary closing of eyes, lashes fanning out on his cheeks, and that's all it takes to take Danny's breath away. He can't blame the spike of lust that shoots through him on the alcohol, he can't blame the fact that he's still here when he shouldn't be on anyone other than himself, but he doesn't move. "Something like that. What, you don't work out?"

McGarrett looks at him assessingly, but that assessment includes a sweeping gaze up and down Danny's body, and Danny isn't crazy. "I work out," Danny shoots back, "of course I work out, I'm a cop, how do you think I do my job, McGarrett? You think I sit back and let the bad guys come to me?"

"It's Steve."

"Yeah, I know." Belatedly, Danny smiles. "Danny."

McGarrett --Steve-- drains his beer. "You want another?"

"Sure." Danny finishes his own and hands the bottle over, watching Steve walk to the bar. He's wearing cargo pants that hug his ass nicely, and Danny should be more careful about what he does in public, even on a quiet night. He turns back to the table, playing with the coaster until Steve gets back. "Thanks."

A quick shrug, and Steve takes a pull of his beer, sets it down and picks with one finger at the label. Danny raises an eyebrow, refusing to comment, watching as he smoothes the label back out with his thumb, and runs the thumb up over the neck of the bottle, then over the rim, soft and rhythmic, like--

 _Oh, jesus_. Without thinking about it, Danny slams his hand down over Steve's, nearly upsetting the bottle. "Would you _stop_ that, _please_?"

Instead of the eyebrow, he gets a look of surprised innocence that's so fucking gorgeous, Danny wants to kiss it right off. This isn't him, this is not what he does, he has to stop before this goes where it absolutely shouldn't.

Steve's fingers flex under his hands, as if testing Danny's grip, and _yeah, wow, no_ , he cannot go there. He pulls his hand back. "Sorry."

There's silence between them, Steve looking like he's not sure what to say, Danny wondering if he's just given way too much away. "I'm married," he says finally, "I've got a wife, I've got a kid."

"Okay."

"No, I mean--" Danny sighs. "Look, I don't know, I'm feeling a vibe here, it's probably just me, and I don't want to-- aw, fuck it, forget about it, yeah?"

Steve looks at him with a quick glance from under those lashes. "I..." he starts. "Okay."

"You wanna walk out, now's your chance. I won't even hold it against you."

This gets him more surprise, and then a fleeting moment of rage as Steve works out what he's saying. "I'm not a homophobe, Danny."

"Well, that's good to know." Danny shrugs, turning his bottle on top of the coaster, leaving damp rings of condensation on the flimsy cardboard.

"You in the closet?" Steve asks, as if they're discussing the weather.

Danny stares at him, long and hard, Steve meets his eyes and holds his gaze, clearly refusing to back down. "No," he says curtly. "I married for love, not subterfuge. I swing both ways. Always have."

"She know that?"

"Yes." It makes Danny angry that Steve even asks the question, and he's about to open his mouth and say so, when something occurs to him. "Are you? In the closet?"

Steve twitches, just briefly, like he wants to look over his shoulder and is stopping himself. There's no one at the tables next to them, Danny's kept his voice low, but the paranoia is so visible it makes his heart clench. "You don't have to tell me," he says.

Steve meets his eyes, and there's gratitude there, mixed with a host of other emotions. It makes Danny wonder, makes him think about how it would be to have Steve under his hands, in his bed, if Danny could kiss him till he stopped being so careful, so wound up. If Danny could make him fall apart and put him back together.

Danny takes another drink from his bottle, tries to let the cold beer ground him, but it doesn't work, just makes him more aware of how warm his skin is feeling. The memory of why he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be talking to Steve, should be getting up and leaving isn't as strong any more, and he doesn't want to go yet. He'll go later, he tells himself, soon, but not yet.

Steve is watching him, watching him drink and swallow, and Danny sets the bottle back down on the table, runs his fingers over the condensation on the glass. Steve shifts, carefully, eyes leaving the table and scanning the room as if automatic, before coming back to look at Danny's hand.

"I've got to get out of here," Danny says abruptly, because he's half hard in his pants and this has gone on long enough. He gets up, leaving his beer half drunk on the table. "Thanks," he manages, vaguely gesturing to the table. "See you."

He turns around and heads out, letting the cold air hit him in the face and sober him up. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and tries not to feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.

"Danny!"

He knows the voice, and there are footsteps behind him. He refuses to turn back, but then a hand is on his shoulder, pulling him back, turning him around. He's shoved against a wall, stumbles blindly, there's a hand on his face, and Steve kisses him.

It's hard and messy, tongue and teeth, too fast and too soon, and it's blindingly glorious and exactly what Danny wants. He gives as good as he gets, shoves a hand under Steve's shirt, two fingers into the waistband of those cargo pants, warm skin against his hand and Steve makes a sound, startled and rough, against his mouth.

"Ah, fuck," Danny mumbles, and dives back in, not wanting to remember why he shouldn't be here and shouldn't be doing this, and Steve is shoving a hand up under his shirt, fingers that are still cold and wet from the beer bottle splaying over Danny's warm stomach, and he feels his muscles twitch under Steve's touch.

Steve is shoving his hand down, into the front of Danny's pants, and Danny is hard and straining against his boxers. Steve makes a frustrated sound into Danny's mouth when his fingers get trapped by Danny's belt, and it breaks Danny's concentration, makes him pull back enough to say, "Not here. Not like this. _Fuck_ , Steve."

"Yeah," is all he gets back, and then he's being pulled away, down the road, and Danny follows, feet skidding on the icy ground.

"What, wait, where are we going?"

"Motel room," Steve replies, looking over his shoulder, and his eyes are dark in the streetlights, but Danny can see they are wide with lust, and he reels Steve back in, nearly slipping again when he has to push up on his toes to kiss him.

"Fucking hell, Navy raise you on growth serum?"

Steve looks positively startled, then laughs, the first honest laugh Danny's heard from him, and it's gorgeous. It changes his face, makes him look young, makes Danny want to do it all over again to see what happens, if he can capture this and keep it.

The motel down the block is a dump, but neither of them cares right now. Steve's hand trembles a little as he unlocks the door to his room, and Danny rests his forehead against Steve's shoulder, bites down through his shirt just to hear Steve groan.

They stumble into the room and Steve kicks it shut behind them, fumbling for a light switch as he's crowding Danny back against the door. "Multi-tasking, of course," Danny mumbles into his mouth, kisses Steve to swallow up whatever reply he was coming up with. He can feel the long line of Steve's body against his front, hard planes of muscle and Steve's erection against his stomach, and he wants this, wants this so much.

Steve finds the light switch and Danny's eyes flood with red, and he blinks them open. Steve is looking at him, that burning, wide-open gaze that is fixed in Danny's memory already, and Danny soaks up all that single-minded attention like a sponge.

Steve's hands come up to Danny's shirt, and as Steve attacks the buttons, _too smooth_ , Danny thinks, _of course he'd be smooth with this, oh my god_ , Danny reaches for the hem of his shirt, pushing it up.

Steve growls when he's forced to abandon his mission of ridding Danny of his clothes, reaches down and takes off both shirts he's wearing in one quick movement. Danny pauses, frozen in place as he stares at the hard planes of muscle, tears his eyes up to lean, gorgeous shoulders and the tattoo curving around Steve's right bicep. He reaches out to touch, runs fingers over skin and follows it up with his tongue, licking the ink and feeling heady and completely out of his depth.

Steve makes a sound low in his throat, a bit-off growl that makes Danny look up, and Steve grabs him, shoves him back against the door and kisses him again, tongue in Danny's mouth, and Danny shifts against him, moves them until Steve slides a leg between his and pins him to the door.

For a moment, Danny sees stars, bites his cheek to keep from coming in his pants right there. "Jesus, _fuck_ , Steve..."

"Yeah..." Steve moves from his mouth to his jaw and to his throat, and Danny feels his teeth run over his day old stubble, throws his head back and doesn't even wince when it collides with the door. Steve's fingers are undoing his last two buttons, pushing the shirt off Danny's shoulders, and he growls at the undershirt Danny's wearing. "Off."

"Yeah, all right, jesus, pushy much?" Danny puts a hand to his chest and shoves him back just a foot, and Steve looks almost hurt. "Can't focus if you're trying to suck my face off, babe."

He feels Steve shiver minutely under his palm, wonders which part of that turned him on, cocks his head at Steve as he rids himself of his shirt and then his t-shirt.

He expects Steve to dive right back in now that Danny's shirtless, but he doesn't, he takes a moment to look, just run his eyes up Danny's chest, and then he crowds Danny back against the door, hands on his chest. He flicks a thumb over Danny's nipple and Danny kisses him, running one hand up into his hair and one down his back, probing fingers sliding below his waistband. He doesn't have enough purchase to go further, but Steve bucks against him, cock hard through the layers they're still wearing. "Yeah?" Danny says, "that what you want, babe?"

Steve ducks his head, kisses Danny's neck just below his ear, and Danny can feel the heat of Steve's skin against his own. Steve is blushing, and _god_ , Danny shouldn't think that that's adorable. It clears his head a little, allows him to think a bit since the onslaught that is Steve McGarrett first started, and he says, "We gonna get horizontal at some point? Because I'm telling you, you're freakishly tall like this and I am not a meerkat."

Steve pulls back and Danny gets the hilarious delight of watching Steve puzzle that one out, and then he smiles, briefly, and Danny flicks a finger against a nipple, because he can and because it wipes the focus off Steve's face, making him look back at Danny with those wide eyes.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Danny says, pushing him back until Steve catches on and steers them to the bed. Steve reaches behind them without looking, manages to push the covers out of the way before they fall onto the mattress, and flips them over when Danny lands on top. He manages to raise an eyebrow. "Are you that guy? Really, Steve?"

"Shut up," Steve replies, voice low, and he kisses Danny, a hand in Danny's hair, and Danny reaches between them, manages to shove a hand in between them enough to force the buckle of Steve's belt open.

"Clothes, babe," Danny murmurs against his mouth. "They're kind of constrictive, they get in the way, you know."

"Jesus, Danny." Steve pulls back, sitting up, making Danny feel bereft for all of two seconds until he gets a good look at Steve, at the frustrated irritation in his eyes, the way his pulse is beating in his neck, how he's breathing too fast, the erection that's tenting the front of his cargo pants.

" _You_ ," he says, and surges up, pulling Steve in for another kiss, "you have no idea, you should be illegal."

" _Stop talking_ ," Steve growls, pulling away, sitting back up, one hand splayed on Danny's chest and keeping him down. He uses his other hand to finish undoing the belt, unbutton and unzip his pants, and gets up. "Stay," he orders, and _oh man_ , Danny can see how the Navy lets this guy be in charge, he can.

"Do I look like the guy who follows your orders?" Danny gets up to his knees, follows Steve's example and starts on losing his pants while he talks. "I mean, look at me, am I one of those guys?"

Steve looks, naked now, and Danny swallows dry at the sight, unable to look away. He pauses midway through undoing his trousers, and Steve kneels on the bed next to him, reaching out to do the job for him. His knuckle brushes Danny's erection and he closes his eyes with a groan. " _Jesus_."

He feels Steve's mouth against his own, opens up and feels Steve's tongue run over his lower lip, and Danny kisses him, open mouthed, as much as he can give and get. He splays his hand in Steve's hair, feeling the strands, too short, slide through his fingers without much purchase. Steve's hand is still undoing his pants, and Steve pulls back half an inch. "Danny," he says breathlessly, "Danny, god."

Danny kisses the words off his lips, manages to contort himself enough to get his trousers off, his boxers following, and then it's skin on skin, and Danny is feverish with it. He slides his hand low, over Steve's ass, squeezing softly. "Tell me you want this."

Steve kisses him, ducks low and kisses Danny's neck, moves down to his shoulder and runs his teeth over Danny's skin.

"Steve," Danny says, forcing his head up, looking into eyes that are shuttered with all they're trying to hide, and _no, this is not how we're going to do this_. "You have to say it," he says, "you have to tell me, babe."

"I want..." Steve's voice is hoarse and Danny is not even close to breaking him apart, and something in the back of his head wonders, about _touch-starved_ ¬ and _sad_ and somewhere, his heart is breaking quietly. "This," Steve says, clearly casting about for words that he can manage, "you."

"Okay," Danny replies, kisses him softly and letting Steve deepen it, letting Steve push him back into the mattress. His weight on top of Danny feels right, and Steve's hands familiarizing themselves with Danny's skin is intoxicating. Danny slides his hand down again, slides one probing finger low, and Steve bucks into him. He's into this, all right. "You got supplies?"

Steve reaches out for the nightstand without lifting his head from Danny's chest, barely pausing as he kisses down to Danny's nipple, searching with his free hand. He makes an annoyed noise when the mindless search proves fruitless and tears himself away, the frustration on his face so amazing that Danny reaches out and smoothes fingers over Steve's frown.

Steve pulls back a second, _like a spooked horse_ , Danny thinks, then submits to it, even smiling. He takes Danny's hand away, kissing the pads of his fingers, then sucking said fingers into his mouth, and Danny groans at the feeling of Steve's tongue curling around the digits. Steve pulls off, turns to the drawer to rummage around, and drops supplies on the bed before kissing Danny again.

Danny hooks a leg behind Steve's thigh, flips them over until Steve's underneath him, and there's a tussle where they struggle for dominance until Danny shoves a hand between them and curls his fingers around Steve's cock. He wins by playing dirty, but it doesn't stop the grin on his face, and he reaches for the tube of lube, finds it in a fold of the sheets.

He slicks his fingers and slides his hand down, and Steve lets his legs fall open. Danny pushes up on one elbow, avoids too much skin contact because if they take too long, he's not going to get to this part at all. He's on edge, been on edge for a while, and when he presses two fingers into Steve's body, he watches Steve's face, the wince that he smoothes over and the way he bites his lip, like it's too much, too soon.

Danny bends down, kisses his chest. "You okay?"

"Fine."

The single word is tense and belies its own meaning, making Danny poke him with a finger of his free hand. "Hey, tough guy."

Steve's eyes fly open, staring at him.

"This isn't a race. You having fun here?"

"Danny, just--"

There's a gesture that Danny interprets as _just get on with it_ , and Danny wants to, really, but something feels wrong here and he doesn't like that one bit. "Steve. Look at me."

Steve meets his gaze, stares back as if it's a challenge, and maybe to him it is.

Danny leans in to kiss him, softly, deepening it until Steve is straining up to follow his mouth when he pulls back. Danny moves his fingers and catches the way Steve bites his lip, like the sensation is something he can't give into. Words aren't going to do it, so Danny slides down, wraps his lips around Steve's cock and sucks softly, just a little, and Steve bucks, groans, turning his head to one side.

It's going to be beautiful to take him apart, and Danny needs to do it now before either of them embarrasses themselves. He adds a third finger, pushing in carefully, but Steve is blissed out now, no wince, nothing except lust blown eyes that are staring straight into Danny's, laser sharp.

Danny pulls his fingers out and reaches for the condom, tearing open the packet and realizing his hands are shaking, and yeah, there's no surprise. He rolls it on quickly, pushes in slowly, catching that tell tale wince and the way Steve hides it.

"Danny," Steve pants, grabbing his arm hard, "fucking _move_."

" _Jesus_." Danny moves, though, pulls out and pushes back in, and Steve meets him thrust for thrust, reaching up with one freakishly long arm and pulling Danny in for a sloppy kiss, until all they're doing is breathing into each other's mouth. Danny feels lost in Steve's body, lost in the taste of the sweat on Steve's skin, lost in the soft sounds that are coming out of Steve's mouth. He's not exactly quiet himself, unable to hold back how amazing they feel together, murmuring words into Steve's skin that he won't examine in the cold light of day.

He's close quickly, too quickly, wishing they could do this a long time, because there's too much he has yet to discover, too much skin he hasn't touched yet. He wants to sink his teeth into that tattoo and find out what'll make Steve give up control, and all he can settle for is wrapping his hand around Steve's cock, stroking him in counterpoint to his own faltering rhythm.

It's glorious, the way Steve bites his lip so hard he draws blood, the frustration on his face giving way to bliss, and his voice is hoarse. "Danny, Danny, _god_." He pushes up to capture Danny's mouth, and as he comes, Danny feels it against his whole body, around his dick, through every point of contact they have between them. It sends him over the edge, burying his face against Steve's neck, his nose in Steve's hair, Steve's arm coming around his shoulders as Danny shudders.

\--

When Danny wakes, he feels dirty motel sheets against his skin. There are sounds from the road outside, muted by walls and distance, and there's the faint glare of streetlights keeping the room from being completely dark.

Danny feels like a worm.

He slides out of bed as silently as he can, searches for his clothes and starts pulling them on. There's a rustle behind him and a light clicks on, and Danny turns slowly to face his mistakes.

"Hey."

Steve's voice is ragged and sleep-warm, and that would do something for Danny if he wasn't feeling like something stuck to Rachel's shoe. He makes a faint gesture. "I have to go."

"Yeah."

Steve looks at him, doesn't get up from the bed, just watches and blinks. It goads Danny's temper, but he doesn't open his mouth. There are other things that are more important, things that are not, in the end, Steve's fault. "I..." he starts, "I'll see you around, I guess."

Steve snorts at that, and Danny rolls his eyes. "Yeah," Steve says finally, "I guess you will."

Danny opens the door and steps out into the darkness.

\--

"Where the hell were you?"

Even with his mind crowded with sense memory and conflicted emotions, Danny can recognize that the driving force behind Rachel's anger is worry, that him coming home at three in the morning means that she's spent most of the night tossing and turning, possibly making phone calls. "I'm sorry," he offers and knows he's apologizing for more than staying out late. "I... I needed to clear my head."

He's always wondered how people cheat on their spouses, has never thought he was that guy, never expected to have to look Rachel in the eye and lie to her. It's on the tip of his tongue to tell her what happened, but he recognizes that, too, for what it is; his own attempt at assuaging his conscience.

"Danny," Rachel says, and she runs a hand through her tousled hair, still clutching her robe shut with the other, "I'm worried about you."

He can't look at her then, hangs his head and stares at his shoes, scuffed with salt streaks and wear from spending days on his feet. "I know."

"Danny."

He looks up.

"I need you to tell me you're not going off the rails." Rachel's voice breaks a little on the last words. "I know we haven't been... lately... but I can't..."

He steps forward and takes her hand, runs his thumb over her palm and squeezes her fingers. "I'm not. This case, it's rough, but I'm not falling apart. I promise you, Rachel."

She bites her lip when she looks up at him, but she nods. "Okay. Let's go to bed."

\--

He wakes that morning to a grey sky, a forecasted blizzard, and the sure and certain knowledge that they will get no further today than they did the days before.

When he shaves he spots the mark in the mirror, under his jaw, just a little darker than the surrounding skin. Nothing too obvious, just a reminder.

He nearly drops the razor, sneaks a glance over his shoulder as if Rachel is in the room with him, as if she could notice because he's noticed. He shudders, but the memories of the night before are burned into his head the same way the guilt burns in his gut.

He hears Gracie call his name, hears Rachel yelling up the stairs that she has to leave, and the house starts moving around him again, his family, all the reasons why Danny gets up in the morning and goes to work.

He turns away from his reflection in the mirror and opens his mouth to yell his reply.

\--

Trent is reading the crime scene report when Danny walks in. He glances at the folder. "Anything?"

"Morning," Trent replies. "No. The area where they found the blood was wiped clean of prints, they only found generic traces."

Danny falls into his seat, struggles out of his coat, arguing with the sleeve that tangles with his watch. He yanks it free. "Great."

Trent is looking at him. Danny glares back. "The blood's a match to the Jacksons' DNA, though. So it's definitely their son's."

The odds that Tyrone Jackson is dead have just become a surety. "Fuck."

"You okay, buddy?"

"Shut up," Danny replies, not willing to examine which of the thousands of things in his head is responsible for his lousy mood.

\--

He makes it through the day and wonders if it gets easier, easier to look at Rachel and not feel like a worm, easier to look at Gracie and not feel like he's destroying her home. He avoids Ariana's, heads straight home after work, manages to even make dinner.

He lies in bed next to Rachel that night and stares at the ceiling.

She sleeps soundly next to him, and he feels it like an accusation of guilt, too loud in the silence.

\--

"Massaro, Williams, you're going to check out this storage locker."

"Yes, Captain," they chorus, and the squad roll their eyes, some laugh. Danny glares at the offenders, mentally promising them mockery next time they do something stupid, and listens to the rest of the briefing.

There are a few locations that tie in with the credit card that paid rent for the building they found the blood in, so they've got warrants to bust them all. Danny thinks no one wants to act like they're not hurrying, but his gut is churning.

He's seen the amount of blood that was at the crime scene. He knows what they're looking for.

On the drive over he keeps his eyes firmly on the road, until Trent breaks the silence. "What is up with you, man?"

"Nothing." Danny refuses to look away from the Jersey streets. "I'm fine."

"The hell you are. The last couple of days you've been a worse pain in the ass than usual. What gives? Is it Rachel?"

"If I say yes," Danny replies, looking at him, "will you shut up?"

"Is it Rachel?"

"Leave it, Massaro."

"Rachel," Trent concludes, a little self-satisfied. Danny would pick a fight with him, but it's easier not to bother correcting him.

\--

The manager of the storage locker complex takes one look at the warrant, shrugs, and hands over a master key.

"What the fuck is with this guy, huh," Danny bitches as they cross the terrain, "doesn't he watch the news? It's a missing kid we're looking for here; he could pretend to give a fuck."

Trent makes a vague gesture. "The guy's an ass."

"Yeah," Danny says. "He's a schmuck. Jersey's full of schmucks."

They arrive at the right locker, and Danny pulls out his gun as Trent fits the key into the lock, turning it slowly. The door gives easily, opens with only a mild squeak to reveal the dark innards of an eight foot by eight foot storage depot.

Trent shines a flashlight inside, Danny sweeps the room with his gun.

He lowers it when he sees the mattress in the corner, when he spots the dark shape on it, and even as he rushes into the room to put two fingers to Tyrone Jackson's neck, he knows he's too late.

The skin is cool to the touch, a cold that travels through the pads of Danny's fingers and up his spine, chilling him to the core.

He glances over his shoulder at Trent, who's hovering by the door, and knows that the careful mask of an expression that Trent is wearing is repeated on his own face.

"Call it in," Danny says, finally, and sits back on the floor.

\--

It takes two hours to process the crime scene and remove the body, and the captain comes out himself to see the body in situ, discuss details with the medical examiner.

Danny sits on the curb outside, flashing back for a moment to his time as a rookie and the first time he found a dead body, how anticlimactic it had been.

Every body after that had been harder.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he looks up, sees Captain Reynolds. He finds the strength to get to his feet.

"Williams."

"Sir."

"It's time to tell the parents."

Yes, Danny thinks, it is.

"I'll come with you."

Danny nods blankly.

\--

They know, of course they know, the moment Danny shows up with the chief of detectives in tow. This time it's Mr. Jackson who falls apart, and Mrs. Jackson offers them tea and tries not to look at her husband crying in the corner.

Danny tries not to look much at either of them.

When he stands outside, after, he can feel himself fill with rage where there's emptiness, feel himself reach for the shield of anger because he doesn't want to let anything else in.

"Williams. Go home."

He glances sideways. "I can stay," he offers.

The captain shakes his head. "It's late. Go home."

Danny nods, silently.

\--

He sits in his car and listens to the ominous sound of the dial tone until Rachel picks up.

"Danny?"

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

He scrubs a hand over his face. "Can I talk to Grace, please?"

"Danny, it's eleven o'clock. She's in bed."

"Well, wake her up."

"What? No."

"Rachel..."

"I'm not dragging her out of bed in the middle of the night so you can scare the life out of her," Rachel snaps. "Have you been drinking?"

That goads his own temper. "Have I been-- No, Rachel, I've not been drinking. But I'm sitting in my car and it's going to take me over an hour to get home, and I'd like to hear my daughter's voice. Is that too much to ask?"

"Must you always do this?"

"Do what?"

"This." He knows she's making a gesture, even if he can't see her. "Danny, this is normal only to you. Don't you see that? Other fathers don't ask for their kids to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night because they need reassurance."

"What?" He can't breathe from the spike of anger in his gut. "Are you serious? What?"

"Daniel--"

"Don't call me that," he snaps, hitting the steering wheel with his fist. "You listen to me, Rachel, you knew I was a cop when you married me. I didn't hear you complaining then. This is my job, and yeah, maybe it isn't glamorous and stylish like those New York bozos you hang out with, but it's my job and I'm good at it, all right?"

He can hear her sharp intake of breath, and her voice is icy when she responds. "I haven't forgotten how we met, Daniel. But I'm not putting my daughter through this."

" _Our_ daughter," Danny corrects angrily, "or have you forgotten about that, too? And putting her through what? Getting woken up once in her life so she can talk to her father for five minutes? How is that going to scar her for life, Rachel, huh?"

The patience in Rachel's voice is thin. "You can talk to her when you're calmer."

"Don't tell me when I can talk to my own daughter!"

"Mommy?"

Grace's voice is distant, muffled, but Danny hears it nonetheless and it is beautiful. Rachel puts a hand over the receiver when she replies, but Danny can still hear the lilting tones of Grace's voice even if he can't make out the words. He clings to the sounds, clings to the way she's innocent and alive, trying to let her voice chase away the images behind his eyes.

"Danno?"

He breathes out in a rush. "Hey, monkey."

"Are you coming home soon?"

"Yeah." He sighs, rubbing his face. "Soon, Gracie."

"I love you," she says sleepily.

"Love you, too," Danny replies, feeling like she's being torn away from him when Rachel comes back on the line.

"You talked to her."

"Yeah. Thank you." He hates his own gratitude, hates her right now, and it mixes with the anger swirling in his gut and the images that are in his head.

"I'm going to put her back to bed."

"Okay."

"See you later."

"You, too," he manages, and feels miles and miles away.

\--

He stops at Ariana's for one beer, promises himself that's all he's going to drink. He sits at the bar, nursing it, until she stops by.

"He sat where you're sitting yesterday," she says as an opening gambit.

"What?"

She shrugs. "Had that same look in his eyes, that sort of hope against hope expression you're sporting."

"I'm not sporting an expression," Danny argues. "I'm just enjoying my beer."

"Yeah," she replies with an eye roll. "You look it."

She moves away, and Danny's hand sneaks out without him thinking about it, stopping her.

She looks over her shoulder.

"He was here?"

"Yeah." She gives him a puzzled look. "What is with you two?"

"Nothing," Danny says too quickly, sliding off his barstool. "Nothing. Thanks for the beer."


	2. Chapter 2

He doesn't think, just shuts his mind off, shuts off the voice that tells him this is the worst idea in the history of worst ideas, that this is his failure as a human being. He shuts off the images in his head, too, or tries to, tries to crowd them out with memories of two nights ago. 

When he ends up in front of the motel room door, he tries not to think about how Steve is probably not even there anymore. There's light behind the window and Danny knocks on the door. 

It opens abruptly, Steve looking out with a suspicious frown. 

"Hi," Danny says awkwardly. 

The frown smoothes to confusion. 

"Okay, so you probably weren't expecting to ever see me again. In fact, I wasn't expecting me to ever see you again, I'm surprising myself here, but... are you gonna let me in?"

"Yeah." Steve steps aside, lets him pass. 

The place is still a dump; a little part of Danny is embarrassed he's slept here, but he silences that voice along with all the others. There's a duffel bag sitting on top of the covers, a stack of clothes next to it. 

"You're leaving," Danny says, and remembers. "Last day of your leave, right?"

Steve nods. "Shipping out tomorrow."

"'Shipping out'," Danny repeats with a smile. 

Steve frowns again. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing." Danny holds up a hand. "Nothing. Navy terminology, it's cute, babe." He wanders over to the bed, peeks a look inside the duffel. There's a dress uniform inside, a part of the chest ribbons peeking out from under a sleeve that's folded over them, and, _whoa_ , there's a lot of them. Danny opens his mouth to say something when he sees the card tucked next to it, the tell-tale black cross at the top. "You had a thing," he says out loud. 

"What?"

"Nothing." Danny shakes his head, turns away from the bag. "I should leave you to pack."

Steve smiles a little. "You should, yeah."

Danny nods. He tells himself he's really planning on walking out, but he catches sight of the soft smile on Steve's face and changes his mind. 

Steve's mouth is warm under his, and his arms come up around Danny's shoulders, and it's brilliant except for how Steve is still too freaking tall, but Danny doesn't care. Danny doesn't care because they're kissing like their lives depend on it, and it's crowding out everything else in Danny's head, crowding out the way he doesn't want to think and how hard he is not thinking. 

It's Steve who breaks the kiss, who leans back a little and studies Danny's face. 

"What?" Danny snaps. "What's wrong with my face? You don't like my face any more? Because let me tell you, babe, you liked it just fine last time, okay? So I don't know what this is--" 

He gestures at Steve's expression, and Steve catches his hand. Danny pauses mid-sentence, frowns at him. "What now?" he says. 

"Nothing." 

But Steve is still squinting, head cocked to one side. "Oh, I get it," Danny says, "this is your bug under a microscope face. I'm not a flea, babe."

Steve's puzzled frown is deliciously satisfying. "What?" 

Danny ignores his question and pulls him in again, kissing him and letting Steve press him back against the wall. He's getting a crick in his neck from this, but he doesn't want to stop. Steve ducks his head to kiss Danny's jaw, licks and worries at a spot until Danny remembers the mark he was left with last time and steers him to a different area. 

For a moment there he feels really, really disgusting, but then it fades as Steve pushes up a hand under his shirt. 

Danny drops his hands to Steve's belt, starts undoing it with fingers that only shake a little, and he can feel Steve smile against his skin. "What, you think we have all the time in the world? You're on a schedule here, I can tell."

He gets another puzzled frown, followed by a beaming smile that Danny takes a second to commit to memory. His mouth is dry and he reaches up, thumbs a corner of Steve's mouth. "I like this," he says, his voice a bit hoarse. 

The smile slides from Steve's face, Danny feels it slip away under his touch, and it's a kind of tragic. Steve turns his head away, takes Danny's wrist and pulls his hand away from his face. "Yeah? You're crazy."

"Yeah, babe," Danny replies, his heart breaking a little in his chest. "I'm the crazy one here, clearly."

"Sarcasm?" Steve says mockingly. "Really, Danny?"

"Hey, I'm an adult, I can do difficult words." 

He leans in to kiss Steve, softly, and Steve deepens the kiss, doesn't let it stay sweet. Danny is okay with that, even okay with letting Steve set the pace and pull him over to the bed, and this time, Danny lands on the mattress first and Steve leans over him, elbows on both sides of his head, his weight balanced carefully so that Danny doesn't take the full brunt of it. 

It's sweet and considerate and not at all what Danny needs, and he blurts, "Do you sleep with women?"

Steve pulls back, frowning at him. "What?"

Danny blinks up at him. "You heard."

"Yeah, I heard. I don't see how it's any of your business."

Danny makes an aborted gesture between the two of them. "You think your sexual history isn't any of my business?"

Steve's frown deepens. He sits up. "I don't know, Danny, do I ask you what you do with your wife?"

Danny's anger rockets and he opens his mouth. "Would you--" He breaks off. "Okay, I see what you did there."

"Yeah."

Danny sits up a little, drags himself backward until he can lean against the headboard. Steve moves off him, lifts the duffel and clothes from the foot end and relocates them to the floor, sits in their place. Danny looks at his profile, at the way Steve is still frowning and staring off to a spot on the wall. "Are you gay?"

Steve freezes, then slowly turns his head to meet Danny's eyes. His face is unreadable, the mask Danny is beginning to know well betraying only that Steve doesn't want to betray anything at all, and his eyes are burning with a heavy anger that Danny is starting to recognize is a shield. His voice is low and rough. "Does it matter if I am?"

Danny shakes his head, shrugs a little. "No, babe, not to me."

"Then don't ask the question."

 _Oh, man_. "Steve..." When there's no response, Danny reaches out across the bed and runs two fingers over the back of Steve's hand. "Okay. Sorry."

Steve looks at him, looks at their hands, back up at Danny. "Are we gonna fuck or are you going to keep asking me questions?"

Danny blows out a breath. "I don't know, you got ideas about it?"

"I wasn't the one who started with the interrogation."

"I asked you one lousy question," Danny shoots back. "One lousy question, because I have a curious mind, and you throw up roadblocks like it's the third degree. You gotta give me some leniency here, babe."

A corner of Steve's mouth quirks, as if Danny is entertaining in spite of his anger. It makes Danny bite his lip to keep from smiling also. "Leniency?" Steve repeats with a raised eyebrow. 

"Yes, leniency, didn't I just say I could do the hard words?"

Steve moves, leans back over him, and Danny welcomes his weight, feels himself settling more into the cushions. "You did," Steve says, and it takes Danny a moment to connect it back to his own words. 

"Well, then," he replies, "you gotta have more faith in me, babe."

Steve kisses him in lieu of replying, and Danny pulls him in with a hand in Steve's hair. They kiss lazily until Steve heats it up, swiping a tongue over Danny's lips and sneaking his hand back under Danny's shirt. They lose clothes, slowly, the urgency from before gone, and Danny finds time to run his hands over Steve's muscular chest, to run his thumb over the etchings on Steve's right shoulder, to follow that up with his mouth until Steve is grinning at him, eyebrows mocking Danny for his fascination. 

"What?" Danny says, trying for innocence. "You put this ink here for a reason, right?"

Steve throws his head back and laughs, and Danny strains up to kiss his exposed throat, to feel Steve's muscles work under his skin as he swallows and groans. Danny pulls him back in to kiss him, murmurs against his lips. "Come on, what do you want, babe?" Steve is so close he's almost out of focus, and Danny still manages to see his eyes widen. "You've got ideas," he probes, "smart guy like you, come on, tell me."

Steve shakes his head minutely, dives back in as a diversionary tactic, and Danny smiles into the kiss at that thought. He lets Steve direct them instead, sensing that words are going to be something he'll have to pry out with tweezers. Then Steve is kissing down his chest, and Danny doesn't mind at all where this is going. He lets Steve free him from his boxers, pushes up on one elbow to watch as Steve goes down on him. 

He's done this before, possibly a lot, and Danny hadn't really thought that Steve was inexperienced, but it's still something he files away. Steve's mouth is warm and wet and Danny loses himself in watching Steve; it's almost obscene, the way his lips stretch around Danny's dick, and Danny reaches down to run his thumb over the corner of Steve's mouth again. Steve's eyes flick up, meet his, and Danny holds his gaze and tries to communicate just how good this feels. He doesn't want to break the silence. 

Steve looks away again, as if applying himself to his task with renewed vigor, and Danny wonders how long it will take to rid Steve of that habit of treating sex like a mission that doesn't involve Steve's wellbeing or continued happiness, and then it hits him. 

Steve is leaving, and Danny has a wife and a daughter whom he should have gone home to, and it tears his heart in two for a moment, because he wants to be in both places, wants this right here and wants what he has at home. 

The pressure of his orgasm is building at the base of his spine and he closes his eyes to let it engulf him, squeezing his eyes shut against the bittersweet sting.

Steve pulls off and wipes his mouth, and Danny swallows at the sight, torn with longing. Steve ducks his head and Danny struggles up into a sitting position, pulls him back to him to kiss him, cupping Steve's face in his hands and running his thumb over the stubble on Steve's cheek until Steve shifts against him. 

Danny slips a hand into Steve's boxers, wraps sure fingers around Steve's hard-on and drinks the resulting groan right out of Steve's mouth. Steve pulls back, breathing against Danny's cheek, resting his head on Danny's shoulder. "Danny," he says, softly, closing his eyes. " _Danny_... so good."

"Yeah," Danny whispers back, feeling the minute tremors that are running through Steve's body as Steve tucks his face into Danny's neck, and Danny wants more than he can have, wants a second life where he can explore the potential of this, explore Steve and everything about him, the way he hides and the way he's right there in the open. "Let go for me, babe."

Steve comes as if on command, sagging against Danny, and Danny lets them both slide back down to the bed. He can't stay; he knows he can't stay, so he takes a few deep breaths before extricating himself carefully. 

Steve looks up, lifts his head from the pillow and watches as Danny finds his clothes. Danny's mouth twists, half apologetic. Steve looks back at him, face blank. 

Danny pulls on his pants, trying to ignore the shaking of his fingers when he does up his belt, tries to ignore the way it feels like his heart is too small and his gut is churning at the knowledge that this was not a one night stand. 

"Why did you come here tonight?"

Steve's voice is rough, a little on the far side of wrecked, and Danny looks up. Steve hasn't moved, is still stretched out on the bed, but his eyes are sharper than they were a moment ago. "I don't know," Danny says. 

"Bullshit."

Apparently Steve isn't the only one who is easily readable. "I have this case," Danny says, gesturing. "It sucks and I hate it, and we're never going to get the bastard and I had to tell the parents, okay? I had to go and tell them their kid is dead, and as long as I live that'll be in my head, that I found this kid's body dead in a storage locker somewhere."

Steve nods, takes it in his stride as if this is an everyday occurrence. "So you came here."

"Ariana told me you'd been in the bar yesterday."

Steve ducks his head briefly, looks up again and nods. "I was."

Danny gestures again. "I don't know why I came; I guess I didn't want to go home." It's not true, because he did want to go home, he still wants to see Gracie, but he doesn't want to see Rachel, doesn't want to see her eyes and her recriminations, the way she understands and yet she turns away from him when he tries to tell her about it. 

He shakes his head, shakes everything out of it, and is left with images of Tyrone's dead body and Steve's piercing eyes. He pulls his sweater over his head, picks up his gun and coat, and heads for the door. 

\--

It was a soft enough bump when the car crashed into the back of his, but it still jolted him into his seat belt and he hit the brakes on instinct. He was swearing by the time he climbed out of the car, because really, he only had an hour left on his shift and this was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with. 

Then he saw her. 

She was twisting her mouth in apology and already holding up her hands. "Officer, I am so terribly sorry, I'm not used to driving on the right side of the road, and..." She stopped at the sight of the damage to both cars and bit her lip. "I'm so sorry," she repeated again. 

She had the most adorable British accent, and the most gorgeous smile, and when she bent over the hood of her car to inspect the accident, Danny admitted she didn't have a bad rear end, either. 

"Look," he started, "why don't you get your documentation, huh?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, still worrying her lip. "Yes. Yes, of course. God..." She moved back to the car, reaching across two seats to get to the glove compartment, and Danny was beginning to feel his anger slip away, replaced by amusement. 

"I guess you never took driver's ed in college, huh?" he said to her when she handed over her driver's license and registration. 

"What? No." She shook her head, her dark hair swaying. "We don't... We don't really have that over in England."

"Oh, you're from England," Danny said with a smile. "Never would have guessed."

It broke her worried expression, she laughed a bit. "I'm really sorry about hitting you."

"That's okay," Danny replied. "But you should really learn to drive on the right side of the road. And since you missed out on driver's ed, and I can't, in all good conscience, let you go out on the road like this, how about you let me teach you?"

She took a moment to size him up. Then she said, "Would you? That would be ever so kind of you."

\--

She comes down the stairs, drowning in an NJPD sweatshirt that Danny's forgotten he had. "Where have you been?"

Her words sound like an accusation, and he has to untangle the jump in his heart rate and the guilt churning his gut from her legitimate worry, and he shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry_?" she asks in disbelief. "Danny, you said you'd be home two hours ago."

He holds up a hand, tries to push out the memories of how he spent those hours, feels his mind fill up with the other images that he'd been trying to crowd out. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, Rachel."

She crosses her arms, the fingers of her right hand worrying the cuff of the sleeve. Danny takes a step forward and puts a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb in an attempt at reassurance. "It won't happen again, Rachel." He means it. 

She nods, biting her lip. "What happened? Why were you so upset when you called?"

He tells her, about Tyrone's lifeless body, and the images rush back in full force. Rachel pulls him into her embrace, and he buries his nose in her hair and pushes the guilt far, far down. 

\--

"We should go away," he tells her the next day. 

She looks up from where she's assembling Grace's lunch. "What?"

Danny makes a gesture. "Go someplace fun. We said we wanted a vacation, right?"

Rachel raises one eyebrow, and her eyes flick to Grace, making Danny aware that she's censoring her responses because their daughter is in the room. "Now, though? In the middle of the school year?"

Danny shrugs. "It'd just be one week."

"Where are we going, Daddy?" Grace pipes up, spoon full of cereal halfway to her mouth. Milk is dripping back into the bowl, making drops splash over the table top. 

Danny reaches out a hand across the table to stop her at the same time that Rachel says, "Eat your breakfast, sweetheart."

Grace stuffs the spoon in her mouth and chews her cereal while Danny and Rachel exchange a fond look. Danny pauses, holds her eyes because she is his wife, and this is their daughter, and what the hell was he thinking the day before? It's hard to push away the memory of Steve's piercing eyes, but he's halfway to wherever now and Danny, Danny will never see him again. Danny is a married man and he had a rough week, and okay, it makes him a piece of work that he cheated on his wife, but it will never happen again. 

He loves Rachel. He really does. 

"Danny?"

He shakes the thoughts out of his head and focuses back on her. "Sorry, what?"

She nods in Grace's direction, and Danny smiles at his daughter. Grace repeats, "Where are we going?"

Danny looks at Rachel, who shrugs. "How does the boardwalk sound? Just a week by the seaside, you can build sand castles."

Gracie's face lights up. "Can we go now?"

Danny starts laughing, and Rachel laughs, too. "No, babe, but soon, okay?"

"Yay," Grace says, and digs back into her cereal.

\--

It's easy to wrangle a week off, easier than Danny expected, and it makes him realize that maybe he's been a bit on edge lately. They book a week in a motel on the shore, nothing fancy because their budget doesn't stretch to impromptu vacations all that much, and Danny drives them down to the accompanying chorus of Grace's "are we there yet?" mantra. 

Rachel turns in her seat and keeps their daughter occupied while Danny swears under his breath at the other drivers, and then they get to their destination and it's noise and lights and a breeze coming in from the shore, and Danny feels a load slide off his shoulders, listens without really registering to Grace's excited chatter and Rachel's smiling answers. 

Rachel settles Grace into the connecting room and closes the door behind her. She's smiling. "I've had to promise that we would go to the arcades tomorrow. She takes after you in her cultural appreciation."

Danny grins at the slight disappointment on his wife's face. "Of course she does. She's a Jersey girl, through and through."

"Daniel," Rachel begins, and Danny laughs, stretching out on the bed. He holds out a hand to her. "Why don't you come over here?"

She smiles and puts her hand in his, and Danny pulls her down to his side, slides an arm around her shoulders and tucks her close. She settles her head on his shoulder. "This was a good idea."

"Yeah." Danny wonders for a moment if it's a temporary solution, if they're always going to annoy each other in the end, if the differences are always going to be too great. At the same time, he holds on to how their differences are what make them spark, what makes him love her so much. He kisses the top of her head. The images in his head are fading, slowly but surely, replaced by here and now, senses and smells and the echo of his daughter's excited voice. 

Rachel lifts her head and looks up at him. "Are you happy, Danny?"

He blinks. "Am I--" He struggles to sit up a little. "I'm not unhappy, Rachel. Do I think life should be easier sometimes? Yeah, but I got you, I got Gracie..."

She nods, smiling slightly. 

Something occurs to Danny. "Are you happy?"

She looks down before she meets his eyes, and he has his answer right there, and it sort of breaks his heart. A happily married man does not spend two nights in a motel room with another guy, but a happily married woman doesn't look the way Rachel does now. "I suppose," she says slowly, "that I'm like you. I'm not unhappy, Danny, I just--"

"It should be easier," Danny says with a sigh. 

"Yes." Rachel's mouth twists. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You've got nothing to be sorry for." He pulls her closer again. "Babe, we didn't choose this, and we're trying, right? We're working on it. It'll work out, I promise."

She settles her head back on his shoulder, and Danny blinks at the ceiling for a long, long time. 

\--

Grace is hyped up on sugar and soda and dragging Danny around by his arm. It would be annoying except for how she's his kid and kind of perfect, and her enthusiasm is infectious. "I want to go down the slide!" she says, peering up at a long, sloping monstrosity that Danny decides needs a better name than simply a _slide_ , because that calls images of school playgrounds to mind and not something that requires several flights of stairs to climb. 

"Okay," he says, and Rachel is smiling contentedly next to him, looking beautiful in a loose turquoise sweater and tan slacks, sunglasses pushes up into her hair against the winter sunshine, and Danny kind of wants to kiss her. "Can you climb all those steps by yourself, or do you want me to go with you?"

"I can do it," Gracie says, bouncing on her heels. 

Rachel kneels down to her level and says, "You have to get one of those mats when you get up there, you can't slide down like this, sweetheart, you understand? You could hurt yourself."

Danny peers up at the way the sun is reflecting unrelentingly on the metal surface. Who built something like this for kids? Who decided this was a good idea? He watches as Rachel takes Grace to the foot of the steps and waves at her as she starts climbing. When Rachel comes back to him he gives her that kiss, and she leans against him, smiling against his mouth. 

Danny keeps his arm around her shoulder as they peer at Grace's little shape ascending the endless amount of steps, and Danny says, "Who built this, huh? I mean, who looked at a slide, an innocent little slide, and thought, _that should be bigger_?"

Rachel chuckles and looks up at him. "She'll be fine, Danny."

"Our daughter," Danny says with a pointed finger, "is going down a slide that can give you friction burns. I'm just saying, who is responsible for this?"

"You are," Rachel laughs, "dragging her here in the middle of the school year."

"Yeah." Gracie has arrived at the top, waving at them. They both wave back and she turns to collect her mat from an arcade attendant. She drags it to the top of the slide and settles on it, and Danny pretends to himself he's not holding his breath as she pushes off, sliding down with her hair flying out behind her. 

They move to catch her when she arrives at the bottom, color high on her cheeks as she tumbles into Danny's arms. "I did it, Danno! I did it!"

"You sure did, monkey." He lifts her up and holds her close for a moment until she wriggles out of his grasp, her attention caught by the next exciting thing. 

"I wanna do that!" She's pointing at the whack-a-mole machines, already tugging on Danny's hand, and he can see Rachel wince and roll her eyes in the corner of his vision. It makes him grin. 

"You want to do that, huh? Good plan. Come on." He lets her drag him over and fishes in his pocket for change. Within seconds, Grace is enthusiastically whacking away. 

"Honestly, Daniel, I'm renouncing all responsibility for her cultural upbringing."

"No problem, babe." He glances at Rachel. "I'll take that part of parenting." Rachel is rolling her eyes again. Danny's grin gets wider. "Fine art and music are wasted on her. We really shouldn't bother."

She turns to him, her eyes flashing. "We shouldn't-- Oh, bite me, Danny."

He laughs, taking her punch to the shoulder with good humor. "So she takes after her father, culturally. She's got your hair and eyes, babe."

Rachel glances at Grace. "Yes, she does." Her smile is fond.

Danny pulls her in and says, "When she grows up I'm sure she'll grow fond of some obscure painter that you've got books on and demand to be taken to every museum in New York, and then I'll gladly let you be the one who gets dragged around boring exhibits."

Rachel grins. "You're not getting out of it that easily; she'll want to share with her father."

"Oh, she's the sharing kind, now." Danny reaches out to tuck a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear. "Let me guess, you're already planning on putting her up to it."

"Of course."

"Hmm." Danny is looking for something else to say, but he's run out of clever retorts, so he kisses her instead. She returns the kiss, soft and sweet, and it glosses over memories, replaces other kisses in Danny's head, and he feels their connection as strongly as ever. 

They come apart, Rachel with a soft smile on her face, which fades as she looks away. "Danny," she says, and her voice is suddenly in a completely different register, making his blood run cold, "where's Grace?"

\--

His voice is hoarse from shouting her name, he's got every attendant in the damn arcade looking for her, and yet she doesn't seem to be anywhere. 

"She was right there," he hears Rachel say for the umpteenth time, "I don't know what happened, she was right there."

He's lost count of how many times, as a beat cop, he'd heard parents say that. He remembers Tyrone Jackson's parents, the way his mother kept saying, "He was only going down the road." His stomach turns over and he bites down on his cheek, hard, tasting blood in his mouth. It's strangely grounding. 

"We should call the police," the arcade manager says, giving Danny a hesitant glance. 

Danny nods, trying not to start yelling about how he knows they need to call the police, how he knows that the police have resources, in case she isn't in the park, isn't lost somewhere between the bright colors and lights, in case someone took his little girl away from him. 

He looks over at Rachel, catches her red-rimmed eyes and goes over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She curls in on herself, hugging her body. "We looked away, Danny," she whispers. 

He can't think of that right now; he has to keep functioning. "They're calling the cops," he says softly, and she meets his eyes. She's been married to him long enough to know what this means, to have the same thoughts running through her head that just went through his. 

The manager comes back over to them, a tentative smile on his face. 

"What?" Danny barks. 

"One of my people seems to have found her. They're bringing her over now."

"Oh my god, is she okay?" Rachel puts her hand over her mouth, hope in her eyes, and Danny doesn't want to give in to hope, doesn't want to think about how Grace was on her own for a whole hour. 

"They said she's fine, Mrs. Williams."

It's only minutes, but then Grace comes flying at them, her eyes red but otherwise looking healthy. She throws herself into Rachel's arms, who hugs her, crying openly. Danny swallows hard and kneels down to put his arms around the both of them. 

"I just wanted to see the swings," Gracie says, voice muffled against Rachel's shoulder. "And then I couldn't find you anymore. You went away."

Her accusing tone echoes the way Rachel speaks sometimes, and Danny feels it like the twist of a knife. He lifts Grace up and settles her on his hip. "We're here now, monkey. But no wandering off any more, okay? Next time you want to go somewhere, you ask."

She nods, her little face serious, and Rachel catches her hand, holds it while Danny carries her. 

\--

"Ten years off my life, I swear, jesus." Danny is still pacing, back in the hotel room with Grace settled into her own room, can't shake the residual adrenaline, can't shake the images that have come back full force, can't shake the possibilities of what happened. 

"We should have watched her," Rachel says, standing by the window. "I shouldn't have taken my eyes off her, my god."

Danny wants to say it's not her fault and wonders if she'll believe him, wonders if he's trying to exonerate himself, because he took his eyes off her, too. "It's okay," he manages finally, wanders over to her side of the room, stroking a hand over her hair. 

She pulls away from him, moves the curtain so she can look out at the evening sky, the light playing over her face. "Please don't," she says. 

Danny takes a step back, lets his hands drop uselessly by his sides, stands there for a beat, lost. Then his legs get restless and he resumes his pacing, unable to keep still. 

"Would you please stop!" Rachel snaps after a while, breaking the silence. 

Danny pauses. "What do you want me to do, Rachel? Tell you it'll never happen again? Pretend it didn't happen? What? Tell me, _what_ do you want me _to do_?"

She turns to him, her eyes blazing. "I want you to stop hassling me. Stop getting in my face, stop pretending that you can fix this. We were both bloody useless today and I can't take you pretending that you can fix the world if you just try hard enough!"

"What the hell?" Danny replies, stunned. "When did I ever--" he holds up a hand to forestall her interruption, "when did I _ever_ pretend to you that I could fix anything? We're in this together and I've never _pretended_ otherwise. That's in your head, Rachel, all in your head. We were fucking stupid this afternoon and it nearly cost us our baby girl, and yeah, I feel like shit over that, too, okay?"

She gulps down a sob. "Don't talk like that," she hisses, her eyes red, "don't talk about it as if it could have happened just like that."

"It did nearly happen just like that, and I'll make sure it never happens again!"

"The hell you will," she throws back. "This, this is what I'm talking about. You can't fix everything, Danny, you can't."

"Who's talking about fixing anything?" He runs a hand through his hair, not caring what it'll make him look like. "I'm talking about not taking my eyes off her again, Rachel. Watching her, like responsible parents."

"Responsible pa--" She laughs bitterly. "Oh my god, Daniel, look at you with your big words."

The word that lies on the tip of his tongue, things he wants to call her that he vowed he never would, he swallows down, but he knows she sees it in his face. She bites her lip and he balls his hands to fists, digs his fingers into his palms to feel something other than rage. "Rachel--" he starts, and then he shakes his head. "I'm not doing this. I'm gonna get some air."

He walks out without looking at her again. 

\--

The boardwalk is at its most depressing in the twilight; the neon lights looking gaudy and harsh, the light bright enough to show the wear of the constant sea breeze on paint and trims. Danny jams his hands into his pockets and walks past it without seeing it all in detail. He's been here often enough as a kid to know what's changed, but today he doesn't care about any of it. 

His marriage is falling apart, his baby girl was nearly gone today, and he's got memories floating around his head of two nights he spent with a guy he should have never been with to begin with. 

It would have been so much easier, such a better life decision, if he'd just had Steve arrested that very first time, let the MPs take Steve of his hands. Danny would have never learned what Steve's skin feels like under his hands, would have never seen the frown on his face as he puzzles things out, would have never known how beautifully wrecked Steve can look when he comes. 

He also wouldn't be walking down the Jersey shore now with a crushing guilt complex and a marriage threatening disintegration. 

He loves Rachel, he's loved Rachel for so long, and losing that threatens to blow a gaping chasm in his life. He's not ready to give up, not ready to let go when he loves her so much, when he wants another chance at making this work. 

He buries it, buries the memories of Steve, buries the memories of this afternoon, of Grace's red rimmed eyes and the phantom echo of Rachel's voice repeating, _she was right there_.

\--

"I'm sorry," he says at the same time that Rachel does, and she gives him a tentative smile as she twists her fingers in the sleeve of her sweater. 

Danny goes over to stop her from shredding the fabric, peeling her fingers away from the material. 

"It was such a shock," she says, her voice low, "I was taking it out on you. I'm sorry, that wasn't fair of me. I was just so scared, Danny, so afraid."

He wraps her in his embrace without saying anything; the right words he's exhausted, the wrong ones should never come out. She clings to him, breathes out a sigh of relief, and Danny can feel himself start to smile. "I love you," he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Rachel, I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispers, her voice thick. "Oh, god, Danny, anything could have happened to her, anything, I know you know that--"

He holds her at arm's length, grabbing her shoulders. "It didn't happen. Don't think like that; it didn't happen, okay?"

She nods shakily, biting her lip. "I keep thinking of that boy, the one you told me about."

Danny nods. It's not like he's forgotten about it. He doesn't want the reminder now. He consciously unclenches his hands from where they're digging into her skin. "I know. Don't think like that, Rachel. Please, for both our sanity."

She's quiet for a few seconds. "I'm sorry about what I said to you earlier. It was uncalled for."

"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about coming down on you so hard."

"Okay." She smiles. "Guess we both needed to take out the shock on each other."

"Never a good idea," Danny agrees, smiling back. He waggles his eyebrows. "You wanna try something else instead?"

She starts laughing. "Oh, you don't miss an opportunity, do you?"

\--

The rest of the week is uneventful compared to the auspicious beginning; by the time they return home, the worst that's happened is that Gracie's got sunburn and an addiction to sweet popcorn, and Danny counts his blessings in all the things that didn't go wrong. He bitches at the traffic on the way back while Rachel leans back against the seat and Grace colors in her My Little Pony coloring book, using a truly disturbing amount of different shades of pink. 

Danny is still counting his blessings. 

Monday morning sees the return of the same old routine. Rachel is running late, Danny promises to drop Grace off at school, and gets a brush of her lips on his and a rushed "thank you" before the front door slams. 

Grace looks up from her bowl of cereal, milk smeared on her chin. "We need to go now, Daddy."

Danny glances at the clock and swears, catches Grace wincing out of the corner of his eye. "Sorry," he manages, lifting her from her seat and wiping her face at the same time, ignoring the breakfast dishes on the table, and sweeps her out the door. 

\--

He's late when he rolls into the squad room, and Trent frowns, standing by their desks with his coat still on. "We caught a case," he says. 

"What do you mean, we caught a case?" Danny replies, glancing at the clock and wincing. "Whatever happened to the Jackson investigation?"

Trent shrugs. "It went cold."

Danny sighs, automatically suppresses the sight of Tyrone's dead body behind his eyelids and blinks. "Well, that's great. Tell me about this case."

"On the road," Trent replies, "you should have been here an hour ago."

"Yeah, yeah," Danny says with a gesture, thinking he needs coffee and a week to sleep off the effects of this day before it's even begun.

\--

The string of home invasions that they've caught means that Danny spends his day talking to irate home owners who all complain they've had to repeat their story too often, and what are they going to do about these scumbags, anyway? By the time Danny drags himself home, it's nearly ten and Rachel blinks blearily at him from their bed. 

"What did they do without you for a week?" she asks. 

Danny sighs, sits down on the foot end of the bed to pull off his shoes. "Sit on their asses, apparently."

Rachel sits up and runs a hand through her hair. Danny is momentarily distracted by how good she looks in a flannel pajama top, by the outline of her breasts against the fabric. "What's wrong, Danny?"

He takes off his tie and starts on his shirt. "They took me off the Jackson investigation. Case's gone cold, apparently. I don't know what they did while I was gone, but before I left we had plenty of leads, so I don't know what those jackasses did, but it was sitting on their hands or something, the stupid, ignorant jerks, the--"

Rachel cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder, and he takes a deep, calming breath, which doesn't work at all to help him calm down. "Come to bed," she says softly. 

"Yeah." He gets up and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. The light makes his skin look sallow, and he looks critically at his own reflection and the bags under his eyes, and can't believe that one day after their vacation he feels as burned out as he did before it. 

This shouldn't be his life, but it is. 

He heads back out, and Rachel is sitting up against the headboard, the light from the nightstand casting a warm glow over her dark hair. Danny feels a wave of desire for her, but no energy to follow it up, and she meets his eyes and he knows she sees it. He shucks his pants and slides into bed with her, pulling her back against his chest with one arm, burying his nose in her hair. He closes his eyes and tries to rid himself of everything that's floating around in his brain. 

It's a long time before he manages to sink into the blessed dark of sleep.

\--

January turns into February turns into March, which delivers a few days of peeking sunlight, turning the streets to slush and making Danny curse as it soaks his boots. The tail end of March promptly hits with a surprise frost, and the slush freezes to ice. A major pileup on the freeway makes Danny work through the night while keeping Rachel confined to the city, making them scramble to find someone who can take care of Gracie.

Matt jumps in again, working from home and able to go out and get her from school, and Danny thanks his baby brother profusely, even when Gracie comes home with stories about green ice cream and peppermint candy, and a new Barbie doll.

"You do this on purpose," Danny complains when he catches up with Matt two days later. "You want to make me look like a bad father."

Matt shrugs as he sprawls on his ridiculously large leather sofa, the sort of thing that dominates his house, twice the size of theirs, and Rachel isn't doing badly, but Matt's business is on the rise and doing fantastic. "Come on, big bro, I can be the uncle that spoils her rotten, right?"

"I think Mom will vie with you for that honor," Danny replies, and they both grin. "Seriously, though, don't spoil my daughter. It's bad enough you feed her candy every time she's here."

"Come on," Matt says, "it's an adventure for her. Besides, she's my favorite niece."

Danny rolls his eyes. 

"You got time for a beer?"

For once, he actually does; Grace is at school and Rachel at work, and he's clocked up so much overtime he got a forced day off. "Yeah."

"Well, sit, then, and I'll get you one."

Matt moves from the living room and Danny hears him walk into the kitchen. There's new art on the living room walls, and he studies it. Rachel would know who it was by and how much it's worth; Danny just reckons it's worth a lot because Matt only ever buys expensive stuff. The prints are wildly colored and not Danny's thing, but then again, he still thinks the things Grace brings home from school should be framed. 

"Here." Matt puts a bottle of beer down on a coaster and clinks his own bottle against Danny's. "Here's to brotherhood, hmm?"

"Yeah." Danny takes a long swig and leans back in the cushions. This type of furniture is indecent, it feels like it'll swallow him right up. It's kind of blissful. 

"So, how've you been? I've barely seen you, so I guess busy will be in your answer somewhere."

Danny laughs drily. "How did you guess?"

"Seriously, though."

He meets Matt's eyes, thinks about telling the truth, finally does. "Shitty. Work leaves no time for anything else, and when I am home, we bicker and fight if we have the time to talk to each other."

Matt looks at him. "Sorry, bro."

"Yeah." Danny shrugs and takes another drink. "I dunno, maybe it's just a rough patch."

"Yeah?"

Danny quirks his eyebrows. "I'm hoping it is. We have good days, we do, it's just... it should be easier."

Matt nods, even though he's never had a relationship that lasted longer than six months. "I hear you."

"What do you know?" Danny shoots back. "Hmm? You tell me what you know about women."

"Pffft." Matt grins. "I know lots about women." He gestures, vaguely outlining a silhouette. "I know how they feel, how they taste, how they--"

" _Okay_ ," Danny cuts in, "trust you to turn everything into a porn flick." 

Matt laughs. "Hey, come on, Danny, I was never crazy enough to get _married_." He makes it sound like a dirty word. 

"Yeah, well, you're also missing out on having kids," Danny replies, and Matt's face turns serious. "Gracie's worth everything."

"I know." They're both silent for a while. Then Matt says, "But you love Rachel."

"Yes, I love Rachel," Danny replies, "of course I love Rachel."

The memories slide through his head unbidden, though, not of Rachel, of someone else. It's been two months and he's tried to bury them in the back of his mind, filing it under 'errors Danny Williams should never have made', trying to pretend he isn't lacking regret over those two nights. Trying to pretend, also, that he didn't sometimes wonder about _what if_ , about _could have been_. 

He twists his mouth and looks away, covers it with a swallow of his beer. 

Matt bumps his shoulder. "You guys will figure it out."

Danny puts his bottle of beer on the coaster, stares at his feet. He looks at Matt. "I cheated on Rachel," he blurts, "she doesn't know, but I did."

Matt stares, blinking a few times. "What? What the hell, Danny?"

"Yeah." He picks up his beer bottle and swirls the liquid inside. 

"You having an affair?"

He shakes his head. "No. It was a thing. Just... a thing. It's months ago now."

"Are you gonna tell her?"

"Am I gonna-- No, Matt, I'm not going to tell her, what point would that serve?" He worries his foot over the carpet, but it's the expensive kind, it doesn't even leave a trail. "Why would I hurt her like that, huh?"

"I don't know," Matt says, anger seeping into his voice, "you're the one who slept with someone else."

"Shut up." Danny drinks more beer, regrets telling Matt. He regrets everything, suddenly, his shoulders heavy with responsibility and guilt over all the things that are not working in his marriage. He loves his wife and hates that it's not enough, hates that they have too little to say to each other and not enough time to fix that in. 

"If you love her, Danny," Matt says next to him, "you've got to fight for her."

Danny nods, glosses over the thought of _I don't know how_ before it fully forms.

\--

It's still bitter cold, the frost hasn't let up yet, and Danny stuffs his hands into gloves before getting out of the car. He glances over to Trent, watches as he does the same, and squints. 

"What happened to your hand?"

"What?" Trent glances down at his split and scraped knuckles. "Oh, that. Nothing. Altercation with a suspect."

Danny frowns, trying to remember when that happened. 

"Was while you were out having a lazy day."

Danny nods, even though he thinks he would have heard if his partner got into a scrape on his day off. He shakes it off, focuses on the scene. "What have we got?"

The ME looks up from where she's scribbling notes on a clipboard. "Looks like an overdose, Detective. May be contaminated drugs, but I need to do lab work before I can confirm that."

Danny nods. "Yeah, I know." He ducks under the crime scene tape and holds it up for Trent, who follows. They take a brief look at the body. 

She's young and thin, and so obviously a junkie that Danny has to look away for a moment, because she's also someone's daughter, and he knows he's about to go tell another set of parents about a dead kid. He hates this, hates the way this girl looks too old for her age, too frail for the world she lived in, and he knows she has a story. 

For a brief moment, he thinks of Gracie, and of the way that he and Rachel sometimes don't keep their voices down, don't keep the anger from spilling over when they talk to each other, and that is a part of Gracie's story, and he pushes the thought right down, squashes it and stamps on it. 

The young woman lying dead on the pavement is positioned on her side, her heavy bomber jacket half open, revealing tight jeans and a ratty top. A trail of vomit runs from her mouth to the tarmac, and it's frozen already. She's been dead several hours, dying alone out in an alley, no one to save her and no one to care. 

Danny turns away. "Do we know who she is?"

"She carried ID," the ME says, her eyes squinting as she looks at his face. He takes the evidence bag she holds out, looks at the small plastic rectangle that's all that's left of the dead girl's identity. _Ramona Vasquez_ , born 1988. 

He hands it back to the ME without saying a word.

\--

Mr. and Mrs. Vasquez look like they were expecting it, sitting side by side on their sofa as Danny tries to break the news as gently as he can, Trent sitting silently next to him. He thinks they've known from the moment he asked if they could talk inside, and when he finally gets the words out, Mr. Vasquez takes his wife's hand, and she begins to cry, silently. 

"We're very sorry for your loss," Danny says, and tries not to hate himself. "Of course we will do everything we can to find out how your daughter died."

Mr. Vasquez meets his eyes and nods. "Thank you, Detective."

Danny feels useless, out of place. "Is there anyone you'd like us to call for you?"

"No, no, thank you. We can manage."

Mrs. Vasquez curls in on herself, and her husband puts an arm around her shoulder. Danny digs into his pocket, pulls out a business card. "If there's anything, or you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call me." 

He hands it over and Mr. Vasquez takes it, doesn't even glance at it before he puts it on the table. "Thank you," he says a third time. 

Danny gets up. "We'll be in touch." He holds up a hand, wanting to forestall the guy from getting up, but ingrained politeness forces Mr. Vasquez out of his seat anyway, and he walks them both to the door. 

The door closes behind them, but Vasquez's silhouette doesn't move away from the glass, and Danny knows he's falling apart. All he can do for them now is find out how their daughter died, and it's not fucking enough.

\--

He flips a coin with Trent about who does the paperwork, although he feels that given that he handled the death notification, Trent should show a little gratitude. He loses the coin toss, though, and doesn't really mind. Paperwork is annoying but grounding, it gets the facts straight in his head and helps him keep an overview of the case. 

"Thanks, man," Trent says, "I really got to get home, Fiona is riding my ass."

Danny glances up. "You guys got trouble?"

Trent shrugs. "Dunno, bit of a patch, you know?"

"Yeah," Danny replies, "I know."

Trent hesitates, lingering by his desk. "You and Rachel doing better?"

Danny makes a face. "Not any worse."

"Take your blessings where you can find them, right?"

"Yeah." Danny looks at him. "Now go. You won fair and square, so go off and enjoy your victory, huh?"

Trent grins. "Thanks, man. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you." Danny waves him off, settles in for the duration, and starts typing. 

\--

"Williams, you got a visitor!"

He looks up from the crime scene report, scanning the room to see the person who called his name. One of the desk sergeants is standing by the door, behind him a very familiar figure in faded BDUs. 

Danny can feel his pen slipping from his fingers as he stares at Steve, who is frowning and ducking his head, the gesture is so familiar Danny feels a stab in his chest, and he gets up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his seat. 

He crosses the squad room, feeling a few curious pairs of eyes on him, and walks to the door. "Thanks, sergeant."

The sergeant nods, turns back and heads down the stairs, and Danny pulls Steve aside into the corridor. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Steve's frown deepens, his face a mask of carefully hidden worry, and Danny feels his heart tug, feels memories floating up from where he's buried them. "I wanted to see you," Steve says, and it's clear from his expression that those words tumbled out rather than him making a conscious decision to say them. 

"Yeah?" Danny shoots back. "What the hell for, huh? I'm married, I told you."

"Look, I'm not trying to make trouble for you. If you want me to go, I'll go. I just didn't know where else to find you, okay?"

Danny hangs his head, taking a deep breath. 

"I'll go," Steve says, and turns to head to the stairs. 

Danny's hand snakes out without thinking about it, snagging the coarse fabric of Steve's sleeve. Steve stops and looks over his shoulder, and Danny meets his eyes. 

He can't deny that Steve's been on his mind, can't deny that seeing him here now feels like something lightened in Danny's chest, like his body is singing a little. He should let Steve walk out of here, should tell him never to come back, should make sure that he goes back into the squad room, finishes his reports, goes home and makes love to his wife. 

Only Rachel and he haven't had sex in over a week, Danny is too tired, she's too tired, Grace will be in bed by the time he gets home, and every time he thinks about going home he thinks about the disappointments that await him there. 

It makes what he's about to do a really, really, monumentally stupid decision, but he still opens his mouth and says, "You have somewhere we can go?"

Steve nods. "I got a room."

"Okay," Danny says, and shrugs into his coat.


	3. Chapter 3

They're quiet on the drive over until Danny says, "You on leave again?"

"Yeah."

"How long?" He shouldn't ask the question, shouldn't want to know the answer, but he does. 

"A week."

 _Jesus_. His first response is that it's too short, and _god_ , he's in this too deep; they've only spent two nights together. 

He parks his car at the motel, a different, better one from last time, and follows Steve to the room without another word. The door shuts behind them, and Steve glances at him. Danny looks back, unable to find words for the many things he wants to say. "Why are you really here?" he finally says. 

Steve shrugs, an answer he won't or can't give. Danny looks at him, looks at the lines around his eyes. "I wanted to see you," Steve says again. 

"Yeah? Because I was that good a lay last time, so you thought you would just give me another whirl?"

Steve ducks his head, looks up and frowns. "I don't know, Danny, you tell me."

"I tell you? You're the one who turned up out of the blue, we didn't exactly leave with promises of ever after last time, so what the hell do I know?"

Steve narrows his eyes, finally just crowds Danny back against the wall. A small part of Danny wants to push him off, wants to tell him it's not this simple, only it is, because Danny's heart rate is shooting up and his dick is stirring in his pants, and as good as Steve looks in those BDUs, Danny knows what he looks like out of them. 

He doesn't think, just reaches out and slides a hand onto Steve's neck, tugs him down to kiss him. Steve groans against his mouth, backs him further into the wall until they're touching everywhere, and Danny can feel the line of his cock through his trousers. 

"How long have you been hard?" he asks against Steve's mouth, and Steve pulls back, frowning in confusion. Danny grins. "Come on. Tell me."

Instead, Steve kisses him again, slides his tongue into Danny's mouth, and Danny takes everything he's giving. He slides a hand under the BDU jacket, encounters a t-shirt and tugs it up until he can get his fingers on skin. Steve's warm and alive and Danny's missed this, missed the sounds Steve's making and the way he's impatiently pulling Danny's shirt from his trousers. 

Danny breaks the kiss, laughs a little. "Still not one for talking, hmm, babe?"

"Shut up," Steve replies, and Danny laughs some more. 

"Make me," he says, and Steve takes that as a challenge. He pulls Danny away from the wall, walks him back to the bed, and pushes him down on it, climbing over him to kiss him again. Danny looks up at him, grinning, running fingers into Steve's hair and watching as Steve tilts his head to chase the touch. 

It still breaks his heart a bit, watching that. 

Steve straddles him and Danny pulls him down, tugging and rearranging until Steve stops being careful and just lets his full weight rest against Danny, and it's perfect. "Danny," Steve says, and he sounds strangled, sounds like there's a lot he's holding back and still too much is spilling out, and Danny cups his face, forces Steve to stillness so he can look into his eyes. 

"Tell me."

Steve pulls away, kisses Danny and follows the line of Danny's jaw, burying his face against Danny's neck. "Danny, god, I want to fuck you," he says in a low voice, "I've been thinking about it, Danny, Danny, _please_."

He sounds a little wrecked, and Danny is nodding already. "Yeah, yeah, okay, babe." He pets Steve's hair, runs his fingers against it, and Steve makes a sound that's almost purring, so Danny does it again, just to hear that noise. "Anything you want," Danny murmurs, and Steve lifts his head, looking at him. 

His eyes are wide, that focused stare that haunted Danny for weeks, and he has to glance away. "Too many clothes, how about we get naked here, hmm?"

It makes Steve smile, and Danny wants to touch that, but doesn't. He lifts his hands and starts on Steve's jacket instead, unbuttoning it. Steve curls his fingers over Danny's, helping him, and Danny can feel how much Steve's hands are shaking, and it makes him sit up a little. 

"Hey."

"I'm good," Steve says, as if anticipating the question. He shucks the jacket and pulls his shirt up over his head, and Danny gets distracted by the tattoo again, struggling up to lick the inked skin of Steve's right bicep. Steve laughs softly, and Danny flicks his eyes up, meeting his gaze. For a moment, he holds it, breathless at the desire visible in Steve's face.

He bites Steve's skin, and Steve growls, pressing him back down to the bed to kiss him. "What," Danny manages between attacks on his person, "the ink is off limits now? Gotta tell you, babe, it's sexy as hell."

Steve pulls back to frown at him, shakes his head a little, and dives back in. Danny kisses him back, open mouthed and dirty, running his fingers up Steve's naked back and digging into to his shoulders. Steve is pushing at Danny's shirt, not as efficiently as he'd probably like, and Danny smiles into the kiss at that thought. It makes Steve pull back, giving Danny the space to unbutton and lose his shirt and tie. 

Steve seems to take that as an invitation, leaning down to lick a nipple, worrying it with his teeth, and Danny can't stop sounds from escaping. "Man, did the Navy instill that dedication in you? 'Cause I like it."

Steve flicks his eyes up, Danny strains up ungainly to be able to meet his gaze. "You really don't like to talk," he says, and watches as Steve's eyes shutter. 

"I thought we had better things to do than talk," he says. 

"You don't know how to multi-task?" Danny shoots back. "Because you were doing just fine at that last time."

"Oh, did I?" Steve's eyebrows quirk, and Danny's missed that. Steve pushes up, muscles barely showing the strain, but Danny has to tear his eyes away from Steve's arms. He hovers over Danny, looking down at him with a dangerous expression. "You like to talk, don't you?"

Danny blinks up at him with a smile, refusing to be intimidated out of sheer stubbornness. "What gave it away?"

"Wanna bet I can shut you up?"

"A challenge," Danny says, gesturing with one hand. "I like this. I like a challenge. Whatcha gonna do, tough guy?"

Steve's eyes spark, and Danny grins at him until Steve rolls his hips slowly and deliberately against Danny's groin. Danny can't help but push up against him, seeking more friction and more of that heat, and Steve smiles slowly, dangerously. 

"So," Danny says, and he can hear how unstable his voice sounds right now, "that your big plan?"

"I'm just getting started," Steve replies. 

"We should," Danny says slowly, and then has to clear his throat, "get naked for this, really."

"Yeah," Steve agrees and sits up. 

Danny puts his hands on Steve's belt and Steve watches him, sitting up and not doing anything else. Danny is trying to read his face, trying to see what he's thinking, but Steve's mask is firmly back in place. "You know, this is a participation sport."

Something crosses Steve's face, too quick for Danny to decipher. "You seem to be doing just fine there, Danny."

"Hmm." Danny slowly undoes Steve's belt, trying to buy time to figure out what's going on here. He gets Steve's trousers undone and slides a hand inside, and Steve bucks into the touch, closing his eyes. "Yeah," Danny says, "that good for you, babe?"

Steve gives up the pretence of being disinterested, leans back over Danny to kiss him, and Danny grabs hold of him and holds him in place, managing to hook a leg over Steve's and roll them both. 

Steve stills under him, blinking up at him with eyes wide with lust and surprise and something more, and Danny can't help himself, he leans in to kiss the lines at the corner of Steve's eyes, wanders down over cheekbones and stubble to kiss Steve's mouth, deepening it until he feels Steve relax. 

Steve's arm comes around him, and Danny moves a hand down to push off Steve's trousers and boxers. Steve wriggles out of them while barely breaking the kiss, free hand tugging at Danny's clothes. 

"Off, huh? Yeah, I knew you were going to say that." Danny chuckles against Steve's lips, panting as he works a hand between them and unbuckles and unzips. Steve rids him off his clothes, with Danny kicking them off his leg when something snags. 

Something occurs to him then. "Tell me you were your usual Navy self and thought of supplies?"

Steve grins. "Of course I did."

"Well, there, my own personal boy scout." He's expecting the look that crawls across Steve's face at his words, the blend of surprise and something suspiciously like fear, and he's okay with it, simply kissing Steve through it. 

Steve pulls back, rummages around in a plastic bag sitting on the night stand, and Danny absently strokes fingers over his hip, unwilling to give up the right to touch Steve, even for a second. It gives him a moment to think about what he's doing here, but he shoves it down, squashes it because he wants to be here, and he'll deal with that later. 

Steve drops supplies on the bed, looks down at Danny, who smiles up at him. "What? I'm a sure thing. Really, the part where we got naked together should be the big clue."

He makes a gesture and Steve captures his hand, holding it suspended between them. Danny refuses to look away, holds Steve's eyes until he can see Steve process his words. "You want this?" Steve asks, and his voice is raw. 

"Yeah," Danny replies, "didn't I say yes the first time you asked? This is cute, babe, really it is, and I'm sort of glad you're that kind of guy, but yes. Yeah. It's good."

He flexes his fingers in Steve's grip and Steve lets go of his hand, reaching for the lube. Danny spreads his legs, feels a wave of anticipation so strong he has to take himself in hand. Steve's eyes darken as he watches, but doesn't stop him. Danny smiles, licks his lips, and Steve's hand trembles as he uncaps the tube. 

"You need a hand with that?" Danny asks. "I mean, I'm presuming here you've done this before, but--"

He stops because something crosses Steve's face, and this is not where he was expecting that look, but before he can ask, Steve says, "Yeah, I've done this before, will you shut _up_?"

Danny grins, until Steve's fingers are pressing into him and then it's uncomfortable for a few seconds, till Danny breathes through it and relaxes. It's been a while since he's done this, and Steve, while not rough, isn't gentle either. He has to take a few more deep breaths when Steve starts scissoring his fingers, and when he can focus on something other than that again, he looks at Steve to see him frown at Danny, face a mask of concentration. 

Danny would laugh if he wasn't so distracted, wants to reach up and smooth out that frown, but remembers how well that went last time and decides against it. Instead he reaches out and curls a hand around Steve's hard dick, and he manages to catch him off guard; Steve jerks and groans, closing his eyes. "Danny..."

"Yeah, babe?" Danny is aiming for smooth but his voice is the wrong side of wrecked to pull it off; it comes out as breathless as Steve's own words. 

" _Fuck_."

The easy quip dies on Danny's lips when Steve adds a third finger. Danny bites his lip and tries not to whimper, blood roaring in his ears for a moment, and he sees in Steve's face that he's not managed to keep quiet. 

"You okay?"

"Stop worrying," Danny bitches, half embarrassed that he needs this much prep, this careful handling, and half annoyed at the warm feeling in his chest when he hears the concern in Steve's voice. 

_He couldn't do this for himself_ , he thinks suddenly, flashing back to the time their roles were reversed, and he feels that quiet heartbreak that he experiences too often around Steve. 

"Kiss me," he orders, and Steve's eyebrows quirk, but Danny challenges him with a silent stare and Steve leans in, kissing him carefully, kissing him like it's the first time. 

Danny shoves a hand in his hair, pulling him closer even though it's a bit awkward given their positions, and kisses Steve, trying to pour into the kiss what he's too afraid to say yet, the things that are sitting in his chest that he can't find words for. 

Steve melts against him a bit, shifts until he's pressed up along Danny's side, his fingers in Danny's body but stilled. He takes his time with this kiss, like the fact that Danny invited him to holds some kind of meaning, gives him some kind of reason to concentrate fully on what they are doing with their mouths to the exclusion of everything else. 

_Goof_ , Danny thinks unkindly, and coasts on a wave of affection for a moment.

Steve finally pulls away, breathing hard, and Danny stares at him. They are so close, suddenly intimate in ways that the fingers in Danny's ass aren't, and he sees something strong and dark in Steve's eyes, something that threatens to engulf him and pull him under, pull them both under. 

He touches a hand to Steve's cheek, and Steve shifts, his erection brushing Danny's hip, and they both groan, pulling them back to the moment and to how long they've both been hard. Steve gives him a quick kiss before pushing up on one elbow, shifting back to that concentrated frown as he works Danny's muscles loose, and Danny closes his eyes. "Yeah, babe, like that..." Steve flicks his eyes to him, and Danny holds them again. "You know how good you're making me feel right now?"

Steve opens his mouth, but no words come out. Finally he manages hoarsely, "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Danny replies, no more smart comments in his head because he _wants_ , wants this and Steve and everything. He pulls his knees up and Steve settles between them. The position is a little awkward but they manage, and Steve fumbles around for the condom packet. His hands are shaking but so are Danny's, so he's of no help there, just watching and trying not to egg Steve along. 

Steve hisses when he slides the condom on and Danny watches his fingers, has a brief flash of desire to watch Steve bring himself off, and files that away for the future. Steve's pushing inside, and Danny has to close his eyes, relax through a sensation that is not alien but not something he's done recently either. He feels a hand on his face, feels Steve's thumb slide over his cheek, Steve's fingers in his hair, and it's so gentle he turns his head into it. 

"You okay?"

He can hear the strain in Steve's voice, blinks open his eyes to watch the concentration on Steve's face, the way he bites his lip, the way his arms are shaking with effort. "Yeah," he manages, "come on, move."

Steve does, slowly, pulling out and sliding back in until he bottoms out, and Danny feels it taking him apart, this carefulness, this slow drag of sensation, making him gasp for breath. Steve does it again, changing the angle, and sparks shoot up Danny's spine. He grabs Steve's bicep, holds him in place, pants for air. "Don't," he manages, "move."

Steve holds still. "Danny?"

"I do not," Danny tries, sucking in a lungful of air, "want this to end too soon."

The corner of Steve's mouth quirks, and Danny just knows the guy is proud of himself, and he lifts a finger to prod Steve's side, making him twist away a little and move, and Danny has to close his eyes and grit his teeth, and Steve wraps strong fingers around the base of his cock, making Danny shout but stopping him from coming. 

" _Fucking hell_ ," he pants, pushing up on one elbow, "you gonna fuck me like that? _Jesus_ , Steve."

"Do you want me to?" Steve asks, and although Danny can see the sweat beading on his temples, Steve sounds unreasonably together, and it's not fair. 

"Kinky bastard," Danny shoots back. He's on the edge, Steve's hand all that's keeping him from tipping over. 

Steve pulls back, not moving his hand, and slides back in, and every nerve ending in Danny's body sparks. He wants it to stop and wants it to never end, and the push and pull is making his body twist, drowning him in sensation. "Move," he manages to grit out, "god, Steve, please move."

He catches Steve grinning, wants to swear at him some more, but Steve picks up the pace and Danny is gone, lost in sparks and lights dancing behind his eyelids, and he wants to keep his eyes open but it's too much. Every nerve ending is sensitized, and Danny can feel Steve getting closer, feeling him concentrate on his rhythm, feels the tension in his body. 

It's good and then it tips over into too much, and Danny gasps, whimpers, turning his head to the side to press it into the pillow. "Steve," he forces out, flailing with one hand. 

"I've got you." Steve's voice is closer than Danny expected, and then the grip around his cock disappears and Steve shoves in again, and Danny goes over, following his body into bliss and darkness and the feeling of Steve pressed up against him, his mouth against Danny's jaw. 

\--

He comes around to the less than pleasurable sensation of Steve pulling out, making Danny wince and hiss because he's too sensitive, his entire body wanting to curl in on itself. Steve disposes of the condom, disappears from the bed and comes back with tissues, cleaning them both up. 

"Danny?" he says, and there's a hint of hesitance there. 

"I'm okay," he manages, flapping a hand at Steve, turning onto his side so he can give into the impulse of curling up a bit. 

There's a pause, and then Steve slides back between the sheets next to him, lying on his back, keeping careful distance between them. 

_Oh, man_. Danny slides a hand across the sheets without opening his eyes, too tired for anything that requires effort right now, on his way to blissed out and happy once he gets his equilibrium back. He encounters warm skin, feels Steve start, and shuffles over until he's pressed up against Steve's side, nosing Steve's ribs.

A hand lands in his hair and pets, and Danny smiles against Steve's skin. He flops an arm over Steve's waist, enjoying the feeling of sweat slick skin. "Give me a minute," he murmurs nonsensically, and he hears as well as feels Steve chuckle.

\--

When he wakes, the room is dark except for one light, and Steve is sitting up against the headboard, wide awake. 

Danny lifts his head from Steve's abdomen, struggles out from under the covers, and runs a hand through his hair. Steve quirks an eyebrow at the sight, and Danny rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know." He tries to make his hair lie flat; he suspects it's a bit of a lost cause. "Go ahead, laugh, Steven."

Steve laughs. 

Danny stretches, feeling tired and sore in places, but also satisfied and boneless, and a little bit sullied. When he settles into the pillows, he catches Steve's dark eyes on him. 

"Danny."

Danny makes an inquisitive noise. 

"Shouldn't you..." Steve trails off, frowning. 

"Shouldn't I what?" It hits Danny before Steve can open his mouth to answer. "Yeah, I should."

He should go home. He knows it. He called Rachel about the paperwork, about being home late, but that doesn't mean she isn't going to wonder, and _wow_ , he is that guy. The sensation of being a worm is back, sitting somewhere low in his belly, warring with how he really, really would like to stay. 

He looks at Steve and realizes that all this makes him a jerk in more ways than one, and says, "I'm sorry."

Steve shrugs. "I knew what I was getting into."

Those words make Danny pause. "Are we? Getting into something?"

He tries to keep his voice level, but he catches the twitch on Steve's face, and _oh man_ , this guy can break his heart twenty ways from Sunday. Danny's chest feels tight and sore, and he watches as Steve struggles with himself, watches the mask slide into place before Steve replies. "I was hoping," he says, voice carefully level, "that we could. Just for this week, maybe."

Danny thinks it through, thinks those words through and then thinks about Steve being here. "You're not from around here," he says, letting that lead him to a conclusion, "but you came here anyway."

Steve breathes out carefully, like Danny revealed a great secret. "Yeah."

Danny wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him real badly, but doesn't think he's allowed. They're not those guys, yet, they maybe never will be. Danny shouldn't lead them places where they can't go, even if Steve decided to come to Jersey for a week's leave on the off chance that Danny, the guy he spent two nights with two months ago, might want to see him again. 

He knows what this is, wonders if it makes him more or less scummy for being here. 

"Babe," he says, and Steve turns his head, meets his eyes, and Danny can't stop looking at his mouth. He tears his gaze away. "I do have to go, but I'm coming back, okay?"

"Yeah," Steve breathes again. 

"Good." 

Before he leaves, he scribbles his cell number on the back of a business card, and leaves it on Steve's nightstand. 

Steve watches him in silence, and Danny wonders, with a heavy heart, if this is the moment that will define them.

\--

He turns his key in the lock and this time it _feels_ different, not that a one night stand is nothing, but he vividly remembers making Steve the promise to come back. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, stepping into the darkness of his own hallway, letting memories and guilt and regret slide off him. 

The darkness helps, even if it makes him aware of how late he is. He locks the door behind himself, slides home the deadbolts, and climbs the stairs. 

Rachel clicks on the light when he comes into their bedroom, blinking at him. "Just how much paperwork did you have to do?"

Danny grimaces. "Trent's got trouble at home, he begged out early."

"Hmm." He can see her thinking it, knows that she's aware they've got problems of their own, even if they haven't talked about it since they went to the shore. Why are they pretending that the vacation solved everything, if they are bickering just like before?

"I'm sorry," he says, and knows he's apologizing for more than just his lateness.

Rachel shrugs. "Get into bed, Danny, it's late."

"Yeah." He strips off his clothes and brushes his teeth, finally sliding between the sheets. She's lying on her side, turned away from him, and he doesn't pull her towards him. For a quick, terrible moment, he wonders what it would have been like to stay with Steve, to curl up against Steve's back and bury his nose in that short hair. 

He reaches out and touches the long, dark strands on the pillow next to his own. He feels empty, like nothing inside him is responsive. Danny closes his eyes. 

\--

Rachel is on the phone when he walks into the kitchen, Gracie watching her with big eyes, still spooning cereal into her mouth. Danny grabs a paper towel and wipes her face automatically, exchanging a meaningful look with Rachel, who holds up a finger. 

"Yes, mum," she says, and Danny turns away so she doesn't catch his expression. "No, of course I will. And yes, I can manage." A pause. "I don't know, Daniel is-- hmm?"

Danny busies himself with cornflakes and orange juice, glancing at the clock and realizing that there's no time to make coffee, and he'll have to get some at the station. "Eat your breakfast," he tells his daughter, half an eye still on his wife, who's walking around the kitchen packing paperwork into her briefcase. 

Grace dutifully begins to eat again, cereal crunching between her teeth. Rachel covers the phone with one hand and says, "Close your mouth when you chew, sweetheart," and returns to her conversation without missing a beat. 

Grace looks at Danny, who grins conspiratorially at her. She giggles, and he catches Rachel's glare. He shrugs, smiling at her, and it makes her frown. 

After she hangs up, he says, "What was that about?"

Rachel glances sideways from where she's organizing her papers. "They want me to come home for the summer."

"What?"

"They want to see me, and I them. And they want to see Grace. That's not too much to ask, is it? She's their granddaughter." Rachel's tone is testy, and Danny senses suddenly that she's made up her mind already. 

He leans back in his seat, facing her fully. "So we're going over there? For how long? How will you get the time off?"

"I can get the time off, things are slow in the summer and I've worked a lot of hours." She stops and turns to him, and Danny can feel the other shoe drop before she speaks. "I want to go for a month, take Grace during the summer. She should get to know England, and her grandparents, and--"

"Whoa." Danny holds up a hand, gets up and grabs her sleeve, dragging her to the hallway. " _What_?" he hisses. "Suddenly you're taking our daughter out of the country for a _month_? You know I don't get that kind of vacation time."

"Danny--" she begins.

"No. I forbid it."

"You do what?" She arches an eyebrow, her face growing cold. "I don't think you get a say in this."

"I do, actually," Danny tells her with a gleeful sense of victory he knows is _wrong_. "You can't take her out of the country without my consent."

Rachel stares. She laughs, a dry, hollow sound that sits false in Danny's chest, and he has a flash of watching them both from afar, tearing themselves apart. He takes a step back until he feels the wall against his back, grounding him. 

"Okay," he says slowly, "let's back up."

"Daniel," Rachel says, keeping her voice low but being no less insistent for it, "I want to see my parents. I want Grace to know her grandparents. This is not an unreasonable request, given that your parents live three streets over."

Danny takes a deep breath. "I know," he admits. 

"I understand that it means we'll be away for a month. But I am telling you, it is just this one time, okay?"

"Yes." He sucks in some more air. "No. I don't want to be without you for a month. Is it so bad that I don't want my daughter to be gone _for a month_?"

"I think," Rachel says slowly, "that we maybe need some time apart."

Danny wants to argue, he opens his mouth to argue, only he can't. He can't say anything, stuck between memories and places he also wants to be and how late he was home the night before. "This is a onetime thing? You promise? And you will both come home after?"

" _That's_ what you're afraid of? Danny, this is not me trying to leave you. If I were leaving you, you would know."

Underneath her words, her tone, in her eyes, Danny can see the unspoken question. _Do you know me so little?_ Neither of them voices it. He reaches out, tugs on her shoulder until she comes into his embrace, and he holds her close. She's a little more rigid in his arms than she used to be, and too soon she steps back. "We're both going to be late for work," she says, and there are lines around her eyes, lines that Danny can't smooth away any more. 

They walk back into the kitchen, where Grace looks at them with big, dark eyes, her cereal bowl empty, her small fingers worrying her spoon.

\--

The ME's report on Ramona Vasquez is lying on his desk, Trent is nowhere in sight, and his captain beckons him into his office. Danny shrugs out of his coat, grabs himself a cup of coffee, and walks into the office. 

"Close the door," Reynolds says, and Danny frowns, but complies. "Look." He gestures to a chair, and Danny sits, sensing this is not going to be fun. 

"What is it?"

"I'm not a heartless bastard, and this station gossips like my wife's book club, so I know you've got problems. But you've been late more mornings than you've been in on time."

Danny nods. "I know, I know. I'll clean up, yeah?"

Reynolds leans across the desk. "Danny, I'm not trying to be a hardass, and I know you make your hours, but if Massaro isn't in to cover for you, either, it's gonna show. That can't happen, you hear me?"

Danny sighs. "Yeah, Captain, I hear you."

"Do you know where he is? Because believe me, I'll gladly give him the same speech."

"No, don't." Danny shakes his head. "He's been covering my ass enough lately, he doesn't deserve it for one time." 

"Fair enough." Reynolds squints. "Like I said, this station talks. I don't know which bits are true, so I'm just gonna come out and ask: everything okay at home?"

Everything is shitty at home, and Danny is having what by all rights would be called an affair. "It's rough," he replies, and makes sure he looks Reynolds in the eye. "But it's nothing I can't handle and nothing that hasn't happened to a dozen guys around here."

Reynolds nods curtly. "All I need to know."

 _Yeah_. "That all, sir?"

The reply he gets is a hand wave, and Danny takes his coffee out of the office to get to work. 

\--

Trent comes in around ten, and Danny glares at him. Before he can start, Trent holds up a hand. "I know," he says, "sorry, okay?"

"Yeah." Danny can't really chew him out when he's been late often enough himself. "Everything okay?"

He gets a good look at Trent's face and knows instantly that it isn't; his partner looks wrecked and a little shell shocked. "Fiona," Trent says, making it sound like it's an explanation in itself, and maybe it is. 

"Sorry, man."

"Yeah, well, now I know how you feel." Trent shrugs stiffly out of his jacket, falling heavily into his seat. "She's talking about throwing me out, about going to her mother's, I had to talk her down, you know?"

Danny thinks about his own conversation with breakfast. "Yeah. Everything sorted out?"

"Yeah." Trent tugs the ME's report towards himself and opens it, and Danny gets up to pour them both a cup of coffee. When he sits back down, Trent says, "Man, this is rough."

Danny nods. The tox screen showed a too high concentration of heroin in Vasquez's blood, which indicates either suicide or a dangerous batch of drugs on the street. He's rubbing his face before he thinks about it, and it's too early in the morning to be dealing with the potential consequences of this information. 

Trent is picking up the phone, dialing the beat sergeant's desk, relaying the information they've got. Danny picks up the phone and dials the crime lab, asking about any needles that Vasquez might have had on her. 

They find nothing, Trent bitches down the phone at the sergeant about how something isn't his responsibility, and Danny is beginning to feel a tension headache start between his eyes. 

\--

His phone rings at five, just after he's left the Vasquez house to inform them of the cause of death. He almost lets it go to voice mail, only glancing at the display, but sees an unlisted number and makes himself be professional and pick it up. "Williams."

"It's me." 

Steve's voice is low and tight. Danny turns the engine back off, stays in the parking spot outside of the house. "Hey."

"I, uh..."

Danny closes his eyes, listens to the sound of Steve's breathing. "Yeah?"

"...was wondering," Steve continues, "if you wanted to get dinner."

Danny's mind fills with images, of a table full of good food and the sparkle that can creep into Steve's gaze, and he says, "Yeah, okay," without thinking. 

Steve clears his throat on the other end, the sound muffled because, of course, the idiot is hiding it. "Great."

"Seven okay for you?"

"Yeah. Where?"

Danny thinks, dredges up a name of an out of the way Italian place that will be discreet enough, although he knows nothing is discreet enough, right now. He gives Steve the address. 

"See you then," Steve replies, and hangs up. 

Danny swears under his breath, swears at the feelings dancing in his chest, the worm crawling in his belly, at the world and everything, and scrolls through his contact list to call Rachel.

\--

The lighting is low and it's the sort of place Danny remembers, where you bring first dates and people you don't want to be seen with. It's not a cop hang out, just a small restaurant tucked into a back street, with good food and cheesy decor, defining Jersey. 

Steve is already seated, leaning back in a corner chair, observing the place as he sips a beer. He's wearing jeans and a knit sweater over a long sleeved t-shirt, the dark navy making him look good, the low lighting bringing out the line of his jaw and the long sweep of his eyelashes. 

He catches sight of Danny, and he lights up, throwing Danny a smile that makes Danny's heart do funny things. 

He wants to bypass this altogether, take Steve back to that motel room so Danny can feel Steve's skin under his hands again, but he also wants to be here, wants to eat the food and watch Steve relax and find out what makes him tick that's not about being in bed. 

He slides into the seat across from Steve, returning the smile. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Find the place okay?"

"Yeah, no sweat."

Danny flags down a passing waitress and orders a beer for himself. "You want anything?"

Steve holds up his half-full glass. "I'm good."

The waitress leaves, and Danny looks at Steve, who gives him a lopsided smile until they both have to look away. It's a little awkward, and Danny starts to laugh. "Okay, we're doing things sort of backward, hmm?"

Steve laughs, too. "Yeah, I guess we are."

"I don't usually find out what someone looks like naked before I buy them a meal," Danny adds. 

Steve frowns. "Do you do this often?"

His voice is carefully controlled again, which tells Danny all he needs to know about how important his answer is to Steve. It doesn't surprise him. "No, babe. I haven't done this since before I got married."

Silence falls between them for a second, and Danny watches as Steve studies the table cloth, and it makes him want to reach out and force Steve to face him. His hand twitches, but he doesn't. "Hey. Do you believe me?"

Steve looks up. "Yeah. Yeah, I believe you, Danny."

"Good, 'cause that's important, I think."

Steve nods. 

Danny sighs, starts to say something but stops when the waitress shows up with his drink and the menus. They take them but wave off the specials. Danny watches her walk away, doesn't open his menu yet. Steve is watching him, covering it not so stealthily with a sip of beer. 

"I know this is weird," Danny says. "But I was hoping we could just ignore that, okay?"

"I can do that," Steve replies. "Because--" He cuts himself off. 

"Because what? Hey, don't hide from me, I'm over here." Steve lifts his head. "Because what, what were you gonna say there?"

"It doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't matter, that's why I asked." Danny sighs, not willing to push the issue. He opens his menu and takes a look at the options. Steve drinks more beer, _liquid courage, maybe_ , and Danny wants to take his hand and tell him it's all okay, but he can't and he doesn't. 

"I don't do this, either," Steve says, interrupting Danny's study of the pasta options. He tears himself out of contemplating the linguini, running Steve's words through his head until they make sense. 

"I know," he says. Steve holds his eyes, almost as if challenging him, and Danny smirks. Steve hasn't quite learned that Danny's not going to freak out over his curve balls. He suspects he cares less that Steve's gay than Steve does.

The waitress returns to take their order, and Danny goes for the linguini because he hasn't had time to contemplate other options. Steve orders something with seafood, and Danny raises an eyebrow. 

"Things that swam? Really?"

"What's wrong with seafood, Danny?"

"I'll tell you," Danny replies, gesturing. "It swims in the sea, unlike mammals, mammals walk on the earth. We're carnivores, that means we eat other mammals. We don't eat things that swim."

Steve's eyes are sparkling. "You feel strongly about this, huh?"

"Yeah," Danny replies. "Besides, fish is disgusting."

"I grew up in Hawaii," Steve says, "you either eat fish or you starve."

"Hawaii, huh? Well, that explains the Navy."

Steve's eyes go shuttered. "Not really. I had to move away, and I joined because I missed the ocean."

 _Had to move away?_ Danny files that for later. "Here you are, many years later; I guess it suited you."

"Yeah." There's a brief flash of a smile. "You could say that."

Danny smiles back, trying to coax that smile into growing. "What do you do in the Navy?"

It's a little embarrassing that he doesn't know the first thing about the man in front of him yet, and he's eager to rectify that omission, although he's beginning to sound like an interrogator. Steve doesn't seem to notice. "It's classified."

Danny starts laughing, stops when Steve's face remains serious. "What?"

"I'm a SEAL," Steve says, and _oh, hello_. Okay, then. Danny takes a drink. 

"Good for you," he replies. "You like doing... that?" 

Steve shrugs. "Yeah."

Danny remembers, the card in Steve's pack, the tell tale cross and the dress uniform, and the knowledge weighs heavily on his heart, but he doesn't want to ask and ruin the moment. "So you're like, uber-Navy."

Steve's eyebrows do a complicated wriggle, and it's kind of comical. Danny grins, and Steve begins to laugh. "What about you?"

"Me? Born and bred in Jersey."

"You're a cop."

"We've established this." Danny smiles, taking the sting out of his words. "Always wanted to be one. My parents used to let me run with it, said I would figure it out one way or the other, but it never changed. Went to college 'cause they wanted me to, but it didn't stick. First day I walked into the job, I knew it was right, it was me."

"That's cool, man."

"Yeah." Danny twirls his beer bottle on the coaster. The waitress comes up to their table with steaming plates, and they tuck into their food. 

After a moment, Steve says in a low voice, "How did you end up married?"

It makes Danny bristle, and he forces himself not to snap. "Same way as everyone. Met someone, fell in love."

"Solved a lot of problems for you."

Danny looks up, startled, fork going back down to his plate. Steve is looking at him with something akin to jealousy on his face, and _wow_. Danny's heart breaks even as he feels his anger mount. "It solved squat for me. There was nothing to solve, you understand?"

Steve's face becomes unreadable for a moment, a mask Danny knows is hiding anger. "Come on, Danny."

"You think it's easier," Danny asks, "because I'm with a woman? You think that stops me being who I am? Yeah, it makes some things easier, because people see what they want to see and I fit the picture. But you better believe I don't take bullshit just to hide who I am."

It's a low blow and he can see it land, can see the way Steve's face twitches, the way he glances around the restaurant, that sudden caution that Danny understands but hates. "I can't--"

"I know you can't," Danny replies, pitching his voice low, trying to reign in his anger. "But don't lie to yourself."

Steve opens his mouth for the automatic denial, closes it again without saying anything. He puts down his fork and rubs a hand over his mouth. 

Danny watches him. "I get where you're coming from. I read the papers; I know." He takes a deep breath, and Steve's eyes are glued to his, wide and brimming. "I don't care what goes on inside that head of yours, okay, but don't talk to me that way."

Steve nods, slowly. Danny thinks he does care what goes on inside Steve's head, wants to reach in there and drag this issue out into daylight, kicking and screaming, until Steve doesn't start twitching at the mere thought of having a sexuality. But he can't undo what the Navy did in one night. 

"Okay." Steve's voice is gravelly, and he leans back in his seat, pushing his food around his plate. 

Danny nods and resumes eating. "How did you wind up in Jersey?" 

"You know how." So Steve had figured that one out. "I had a funeral to go to."

"I'm sorry, and yes, I knew. Someone you were close to?"

Steve sighs, pushing his plate away. "Guy under my command."

"Aw, shit."

"Yeah." Steve flags the waitress, who comes over. 

"Are you done with your food?" she asks, picking up the plate as Steve nods, not even blinking at the fact that the plate is only half empty. 

"Can I get some tea?"

"Sure." She walks away. 

"Tea," Danny states. "You're having tea."

"Yeah, Danny, I like tea."

Danny starts wishing again that he could touch Steve, starts wishing that he could reach out and take his hand, maybe press a kiss to the lines around his eyes, and flexes his hands to keep from doing any of it. 

The waitress puts a cup of tea down in front of Steve, and he thanks her with a tired smile. This is not, Danny thinks, how he wanted things to go tonight, not what he was planning. He finishes his food and thinks about how to get things back on track. 

Before he can say something, Steve says, "Look, if you're pissed at me--"

"I'm not pissed at you," Danny cuts in before Steve can finish the sentence. "I am many things with you, but not that." He sighs, feeling tired and drained. "You want to get out of here?"

"Yeah, okay."

Danny signals for the check, and they split it. Steve shrugs into his coat, and Danny watches him from the corner of his eyes. They walk into the cold night together, and when they're around the corner, out of sight, Danny stops Steve with a hand on his arm. "This doesn't have to go anywhere tonight. Because I never asked, but if you're pissed at me, that's okay."

Steve shrugs. 

"I do bitch fights a lot lately. I don't fancy doing them with you."

"I'm not pissed at you," Steve says. His voice betrays that there's something he's not saying. Danny peers at him, trying to figure out what. "And I want..."

"Yeah?"

Steve looks away, stares across the street at a neon sign that's buzzing quietly. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Okay," Danny says. "Then let's go."

\--

The heavy mood persists between them, in spite of them having cleared the air, and Danny lets it be, sighs as he drives them to Steve's motel. He should go home, even though he knows Rachel isn't expecting him till later, and yes, still, in the bottom of his stomach, the worm of guilt and disgust rears its ugly head. 

He glances sideways, catches Steve's profile, the frown on his face, the way his eyes are just a shade too tight. 

Danny doesn't want to leave yet, doesn't want to leave them, leave Steve, like this. 

He puts the car in park and kills the engine, getting out, and Steve follows without a word, unlocking the room door when they get to it. He flips the light switch as Danny closes the door behind them, and as Danny glances around, he's struck by how neat the place is. The bed's made up, Steve's duffel is in a corner of the room, clothes inside neatly folded, and a singular novel is lying on the night stand, perpendicular to the line of the wood. It makes him smile.

Steve sheds his coat, hangs it over the back of the single chair the room houses, and strips off his sweater. Danny watches, this unintentional striptease making him stir in his jeans. The long sleeve t-shirt Steve is still wearing is a few shades lighter than the sweater was, bringing out his eyes, and Danny looks, just looks his fill because this, this soft side of Steve, where he's tired but comfortable in his own space, is what he wants to remember, too. 

It brings back how this is going to end, too soon, and Danny stamps on both that and the worm. 

"Hey."

Steve looks at him. "Yeah?"

"Come here," Danny says, although he wasn't planning to say that at all. 

Steve comes over, body tense and careful, looking at Danny with a frown. Danny pulls him in, settling a hand on Steve's hip and reaching up with the other one to scratch his fingers through Steve's hair. 

It has the desired effect; Steve relaxes into the touch and tilts his head, and Danny can't stop the smile he can feel spreading across his face. He leans in to kiss the corners of Steve's eyes, and feels eyelashes brush his skin as Steve closes his eyes. "Hey," Danny says softly, "I'm sorry if I came down hard on you earlier."

He can feel Steve's lips against his cheek, searching for his mouth, and Danny turns his head to meet that kiss. It's lazy and slow, not hurried like they've been so often before, and Danny takes his time enjoying it. "It's okay," Steve says as they come apart. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, Danny."

"Okay." Danny kisses him again, teasing Steve's tongue with his own, just because he can. "I can't stay the night. I know you said--"

"I know." Steve's voice is low and he's looking a few inches to the left of Danny's face. "I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were," Danny says automatically. He trails two fingers down the side of Steve's face, watches as Steve ducks his head and feels the warmth of his skin as Steve colors. 

"How long do we have?" Steve asks. 

"I got an hour or two." Danny kisses him to stop his own mind going where it wants to. Steve deepens the kiss, pulls Danny in so they are pressed together, and Danny smiles. "You got plans, babe?"

Steve only chuckles, pulling him backward to the bed.

\--

Grace is grumpy, Danny is grumpy for having slept too little, and Rachel responds to the both of them with exasperation and finally anger. 

"If you would just," she hisses, "stop _whining_ and eat your breakfast, at least one of us may actually be at work on time."

Danny glares at her. "Because I am twelve years old and that is how you talk to me now? What is this, huh?" Rachel glances at Grace, who's watching the two of them like a tennis match. Danny bristles and attempts to control his tone. "Would you just sit down and eat instead of lording over us?"

"I have things I need to do," Rachel replies snippily, "and I've already eaten. Because I was actually up on time to eat."

"I was home late," Danny reminds her, "and you always need an hour in the bathroom, so what was I supposed to do? Magically find an extra bathroom in the hall closet? Someone had to get our daughter up and dressed."

"Daddy, I can dress myself," Grace pipes up, one hand propped under her chin, the other stirring her now soggy cornflakes. "You know I can."

"I know you can, monkey," Danny agrees automatically. 

"Daniel," Rachel interrupts, "we don't actually have time for this discussion."

"Then why are we having it?" Danny shoots back. He gets up to dump the remainder of his breakfast in the trash as he talks. "You have to pick a fight over this? We can't fight about money or how you're going to fucking England for a month--"

"Don't swear in front of our daughter."

Danny clatters his empty bowl in the sink and whirls around. "Oh, I don't get to swear in front of Grace but you get to yell at me in front of her? You should really pick your priorities better, babe."

Rachel breathes in audibly, clenching her hands to fists. "If I recall correctly, since it was only, oh, five minutes ago, you are right here with me."

"What, a man can't defend himself now?"

"Bite me, Daniel." She turns to grab a stack of papers, stuffing them in her bag with less than her usual caution. 

"I'm talking to you!" Danny yells, reaching across the table to snag her sleeve, pulling her back. 

She yanks her blouse out of his grip. "Do not touch me, Danny."

He stares at her, she stares back, and finally Gracie says, "Are you done being mad at each other now?"

Rachel bites her lip and turns away, Danny balls his hands to fists and looks out the window. He hears Rachel say, "We're not mad at each other, sweetheart, we're just having a disagreement."

 _Bullshit_. Danny fights down his anger and manages to paste a smile onto his face. "Ready for school, monkey?"

She looks up at him, all of five years old, and peers at him distrustfully. "I'll get my bag," she says, and as she leaves the room, Rachel silently hands him Gracie's lunch box.

Danny takes it. An apology is lying on his lips, but he's refusing to say it. She meets his eyes and he can see the anger in her gaze. Before either of them can speak, Grace bounces back into the room. "We have to go now, Danno, or we'll be late."

"Yeah," Danny breathes, tucking the box into her bag. "Let's go then, babe."

\--

"Lab results are in," Trent says by the way of a good morning, and Danny bristles again. 

"Massaro, do me a favor and let me actually arrive first."

Trent raises an eyebrow, but doesn't speak. He gets up instead and brings back a mug of coffee, depositing it in front of Danny. "Clearly you haven't worshipped the caffeine gods yet this morning."

His heavy irony makes Danny glare. "Very witty, my friend." He takes a sip of the coffee anyway. "So, lab results?"

"Yeah. Drugs are too pure, not cut well enough. They reckon there's a new player on the market who doesn't know his science yet."

"Drug lords and science. What a world we live in. All right, what else?"

Trent consults his notebook. "Spoke with Dietz in Narco; he reckons it's that new crew, the 49ers."

Danny raises an eyebrow and makes a gesture. "Which ones are they?"

"The skinhead gang muscling in on North Bergen territory. Dietz thinks there's no way any of the other crews are dumb enough to sell uncut heroine. Cuts into their profit margins, and they're too tightly controlled."

"Great." Danny pinches the bridge of his nose. "So basically, Ramona Vasquez is dead because she bought drugs from stupid people."

"Yeah. Girlfriend of Vasquez pointed us to one Ronald Hadley, age 21, as her supplier."

"All right. Where do we find the 49ers?"

\--

His phone rings as they're pulling up, and he answers automatically. "Williams."

"It's me." Rachel sounds stressed, and Danny feels his body tense in response. 

"Hey, what's up?"

"Can you... I'm at work, but the new VP is in and he invited a group of us to dinner at Cipriani's, and..."

Danny knows what's going to follow, knows all the promises he made when they got married, about supporting each other's careers. "This is important?"

"Yes." Rachel pauses for a second. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't, Danny, but dinner with Stan Edwards, this is a big opportunity for me."

Danny sighs. "Okay, okay. We'll figure something out. I'll call my parents, see if they can take Grace, yeah?"

"Okay." After a beat, she adds, "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it, babe." Danny scrubs a hand over his face, thinks about what they're doing to their daughter, shuttling her from one place to the next, and knows he's as guilty in this as Rachel is. 

"Are you working late again?"

"Probably." And this time it will be actual work, because the stack of papers on Danny's desk has been growing since he's been ducking out on overtime in order to see Steve. "My parents won't mind, they like having Gracie over."

"Yes, I know."

They're both silent for a moment, and Danny wonders when they ran out of words. 

"Can we do something this weekend?" Rachel asks. 

"What?"

"I don't know, just spend some time together."

He wants to thunk his head on the steering wheel. There's desperation in her voice and he feels a flash of longing, for the way they used to be and the way it used to be easy to love her. Before he started wanting to spend his time anywhere but home, before their constant bickering, before everything fell apart. 

Just this week, he promises himself, and then he'll try to fix his marriage. Just this little thing for himself, and then he'll lose Steve to the Navy and the call of duty anyway, so he might as well. Take one thing for himself, and go back to fix his family. 

"Yeah," he says, "we'll do something, find something fun, just like old times."

"Just like old times," Rachel agrees. "See you tonight."

"You, too."

As he hangs up, he wonders when they stopped saying I love you to each other.

\--

The 49ers run their operation out of a dingy gym tucked into the back of a rundown strip mall. Danny's taken the time to acquaint himself with the intelligence New Jersey PD has on them. It's a small gang, so far, about thirty members, and they started as a group doing a lucrative trade in false IDs sold to local teens, added some gun deals to that rap sheet, and are currently suspected of branching out into drug operations. Of course, only a few fringe members have been caught so far, and no one has been able to pin anything on the ring leaders.

The gym is a good front as a money laundering operation, and some of the money definitely has gone into the place. When they step inside, the walls are scuffed and dirty, but the equipment is brand new and gleaming. The place smells of sweat and rank showers, and Danny's attention is drawn to the three foot tall Confederate flag pinned to the back wall. 

"Oh, great," he mutters under his breath. 

They attract the attention of the occupants almost immediately; it being the middle of the week and still early, there are not too many people there, but many pairs of eyes slide over them. 

Someone steps forward from around the boxing ring dominating the centre of the room. Football jersey, ball cap, jeans and sneakers. Danny rolls his eyes at the stereotype and swallows the inclination to ask him if he owns a bomber jacket. He pulls out his badge. "Police. You the owner?"

"I might be."

 _Oh, great, a smartass_. "We're looking for Ronald Hadley."

"He could be here."

Trent steps up. "Okay, cut the crap. You don't want us to come back with a warrant and turn this place upside down."

Football jersey looks Trent up and down. "I don't like threats. Especially not from cops."

Danny feels a tension headache begin behind his eyes. "We just want to talk to Hadley. Nothing else. Sooner we do that, the sooner we'll be out of your hair."

Football jersey glances assessingly at him. Danny stares back. "He's not here."

"He's not here? Where is he, then?"

"He's at his ex, babysitting his kid."

Oh, wow, now the suspects are better fathers than Danny. "Yeah? You got an address?"

"Sure."

"You gonna give it to us?"

A smirk starts forming on the guy's face, and Danny's had enough. He grabs the guy by his ridiculous football jersey and walks him all the way back until his head hits the bottom edge of that damned flag. "I'm not having a good day. So I would appreciate it if you would make it a tiny bit better by not giving me crap."

The smirk doesn't fade. He can sense Trent behind him, holding off the rest of the gym with a threatening stare and probably a hand on his gun. The room has fallen silent, the sounds of weights clanking and punch bags getting hit suddenly absent. Football jersey breathes out slowly into Danny's face. "I think you want to let go of me, now."

Danny tightens his grip. "You give me the address where I can find Hadley, and I'll let go."

"Around the corner, flat 3d, above the bakery." The smirk doesn't fade, and Danny wonders why the guy gives this up so easily. They had better call for backup before they knock on that door. 

"If that's a lie, misdirection, or otherwise attempt to obstruct us, I will come back here and I will beat your face in."

Football jersey doesn't even blink. Danny gives him one last shove and lets go. Trent follows him out of the gym without another word.

\--

"You wanna grab some coffee while we wait for the guys to turn up?" Trent gestures to the coffee shop across the street. 

Danny nods. His blood's still up after what happened in the gym, he's restless enough to want a caffeine hit. "Sure."

"I'll be right back."

Trent crosses the street, and Danny's phone rings. Unlisted number. "Williams."

"Hey."

 _Steve_. "Hey, yourself."

"Something wrong?"

Danny frowns. "Why would something be wrong? When did I give any indication that something would be wrong?"

Steve clears his throat. "You just sound... off."

For a moment, it takes Danny's breath away that Steve can tell. He forces himself to focus. "You're just catching me at a bad time."

"I can call back later?"

"Nah, it's fine. It's just one of those days." Danny sighs. "Listen, I can't hook up with you tonight, okay? Work."

"Yeah, okay." Steve sounds easy, relaxed about it. "Let me know when you can, yeah?"

"Yeah." Danny leans back against the car, closing his eyes for a second. It's good to hear Steve's voice, to think of nothing else for a moment. 

"Danny?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"You okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, you too." Danny hangs up before he can try to prolong the conversation. He pockets the phone again, takes a moment to memories the sound of Steve's voice, and breathes out. 

He hears the crunch of gravel behind him, but before he can turn around, his head is slammed forward into the edge of the car. He stumbles and turns, reaching for his gun, but before he can wrap his fingers around it, he takes a blow to the stomach that doubles him over. 

On the edge of his vision, gasping for breath as pain spreads fire-hot through his abdomen, he catches sight of three attackers, all white, with broad shoulders and crew cuts. He knows, in a flash, that this is payback. He rushes the one nearest to the street, barreling into him with his shoulder, trying to break free of the circle they have him surrounded in. 

The guy huffs a surprised breath and stumbles back, but before Danny can do anything more, he takes a punch to the kidney followed by a knee to the ribs, and he feels the sharp ache lance through his side. He brings up his fists in an attempt to block the next blow, but he can't catch his breath enough to straighten up, to prevent the punch that makes him double over a third time. 

He sees the white sneaker come up, but can't twist away, can barely catch his breath. The foot hits his hamstring hard enough to make the muscle give way, and he tries, claws for something to hold on to, but he goes down, and the next kick glances off his chin, making him taste blood. 

His head is throbbing, he can suck in only little bits of air, and he can't turn away from his three attackers; he curls up, the only defense he has left, prays suddenly, as the thought comes to him, that they don't have weapons, that they won't grab his, and that this is only payback and not more. 

The blows come down on his back, on his arms, one against his head that makes him black out for a moment, and Danny focuses only on living through this, on Grace, on being able to come home. 

There are voices, shouting; there's the sound of a gunshot, and Danny flinches, can't help himself. There's a voice, singular, talking near his ear and he whines, trying to get away from the sound. 

"...Danny! Fucking hell, man, jesus, _fuck_." A hand on his wrist, fingers feeling for his pulse. "Yeah, this is Massaro, I need an ambulance. Officer down at Roosevelt Street. I need backup. Danny? Danny, shit, talk to me, man!"

Danny blinks open eyes he didn't realize he'd closed, and something stings, making him squeeze them shut again. "Trent," he croaks out. 

"Yeah, it's me, man, _jesus_." He can hear the tremor in Trent's voice now, can feel how his hand shakes. Danny's beginning to shiver himself, the melting snow on the streets seeping into his clothes. He tries to move, tries to think about sitting up, and his body becomes one protesting ball of pain, making him groan involuntarily. His head spins and pounds. The blood in his mouth is making him sick, and he focuses on spitting it out, on the too bright light piercing his half open eyelids, anything to keep from vomiting.

"They'll be here soon," Trent says above him, "don't move, Danny." And then, "Ah, jesus, fuck, _no_. Don't be bleeding on the inside." He feels a hand against his mouth, wiping away blood. 

"'s not..." Danny tries to slur, "'s okay."

"Yeah? You better be right about that." Trent's fingers haven't moved from his wrist, still checking Danny's heartbeat, and it's kind of comforting, kind of something that makes Danny think he could maybe close his eyes again. 

"No, no, no." Fingers grip his chin, shake his head a little, and Danny's stomach roils as his head pounds in protest. "No, you bastard, you stay with me, Danny, _Danny_!"

"Yeah..." His tongue feels swollen and awkward in his mouth. Something occurs to him. "Ah, shit."

"What now?"

"Rachel's... gonna... kill me."

"Ah, no, man, she's gonna kill _me_." 

"S-sorry." Danny's teeth are beginning to chatter, and it hurts, everything hurts. He tries to suck in a breath, slowly, but even that action stabs pain so fierce in his chest, he can't stop himself from crying out. 

"Hey, hey..." A hand is on his shoulder. "They'll be here soon, Danny, soon, they'll give you the good drugs, you stay with me."

"Wish they... hurry." 

"Yeah, me too, me too."

Danny squints his eyes open a little further, catches sight of the mask of worry that's Trent's face. "Not your... fault," he manages. "Promise me."

Trent grimaces. "Promise you what?"

"Get the fuckers," Danny says, and gasps for breath, moaning at the wave of pain this sends through his body. 

"Yeah. Of course." Trent squeezes his shoulder again. "Yeah, we'll get them for you."

In the distance, Danny hears the screaming of sirens and tries to hold on, tries not to pass out. Trent is talking but Danny can't hear the words any more, can't keep them apart. Blood is roaring in his ears, and then there are more voices, and trying to keep them apart is too much work. Someone bends over him, and he nearly flinches, feels latex against his skin and knows the paramedics have arrived. He sees a dark uniform sleeve and feels the sting of a needle, tape on his skin; an IV. Moments later, the pain lessens a little, making him able to open his eyes. 

"You with us, Detective?"

"Yeah."

"Good." The young woman is doing stuff, setting up equipment and readying things Danny doesn't want to think about. "Can you tell me your name?"

She runs him through the tests, and Danny answers her questions, managing to drag up the day of the week, the name of the president, Trent's name, his own date of birth. "Okay," she says. "We're gonna roll you onto the board now."

When they move him, the pain goes from manageable to insane; Danny can't stop himself from crying out and bites his lip to keep from begging them to stop. Someone brushes his hair off his forehead, tells him he's doing well, that they're nearly done, and he hates them all. He curls in on himself, focuses only on coping with the pain, until they stop jostling him and he opens his eyes to find himself in the back of an ambulance. 

Somewhere above his head, soft beeps are telling him when his heart beats. It's disconcertingly fast. He tries to roll his eyes up to see, but a wave of nausea makes him rethink that idea. 

"The docs'll give you more pain meds in the ER," the woman in the paramedic uniform says. "You hanging in there?"

"Yeah," Danny croaks. She checks something above his head, pulls out an oxygen mask and carefully fits it over his nose and mouth. When he tries to lift his head to accommodate her, there's a stab of pain lancing through his neck, and he rethinks it. She manages to get it on him with minimal movements, and he's grateful. 

The oxygen makes breathing easier, lessens the pain in his lungs by a degree or two. He focuses on getting air in, on just staying awake, on the beeps that tell him his heart is still racing. They go up dramatically when they roll him from the ambulance into the ER, the movement making the pain ratchet up. When they lift him from the stretcher onto the bed, he nearly does pass out. 

"Stay with us, Detective." One of the doctors is shining a light into his eyes, making Danny swear under his breath. 

"I'm... here," he tries to croak out, but it's barely a whisper. 

"Good." More things happen; he can feel his clothes disappearing, can feel hands prodding and poking, tries to stay awake through flashes of pain and incomprehensible dialogue about x-rays and scans. He fades in and out a bit, never really losing consciousness but certainly losing awareness, and when they give him the good drugs, he really does sink into blackness.


	4. Chapter 4

When he comes to he's in a different room, and everything hurts, but it's sort of dulled. He turns his head, groans at the pain in his neck, and someone moves in the corner of his vision. 

"Hey, partner."

It's Trent, looking worn and tired, and Danny wonders how late it is. "Hey."

"I'm gonna go get the doc."

Trent disappears before Danny can find the words to say anything, and Trent reappears with a man in scrubs. "Detective Williams. You are a lucky man."

Danny rolls his eyes, stops when it makes him dizzy. "That depends on your definition of luck." His voice is rough with disuse, threatening to give out, but he manages to make it work. He carefully tries to lever himself up in the pillows. The doctor leans in to give him a hand, and offers a cup of water, which Danny takes gratefully. There's an IV in his right arm, the needle sitting alongside some spectacular bruises. He stares at them for a moment.

"All things considered, you are lucky." The doctor leans against the edge of the bed, drawing his attention. "No broken bones, for starters. Mild concussion, some very serious bruising on your right hamstring and on your chest, and a partially collapsed lung are the worst of the damage."

Danny nods carefully. 

"We want to keep you for a few more hours, but since you don't live alone, I'm happy to release you tonight."

That is good news; Danny hates spending nights in the hospital. "Okay. Then what?"

"Few days' bed rest for that concussion, and you'll need some physio for those muscles. But really, honestly, lucky."

Danny starts to nod again, rethinks it as his neck protests. "That's great, doc. Thanks."

"I'm prescribing some painkillers and some muscle relaxants, which I recommend you really do take."

"Okay." Danny sucks in a breath, but his chest doesn't hurt as much as it did, and the breathlessness is mostly gone. "Collapsed lung, huh?"

"Partially. That's why you couldn't breathe. It's not as serious as it sounds, Detective."

"Good to know." Danny makes a gesture with his left hand. "I--"

The door opens and Rachel rushes in, bag in one hand, coat and hair flying out behind her. She stops short when she catches sight of him. "Oh my god."

Danny wonders suddenly what he looks like. "Rachel," he says, and holds out a hand to her. She brushes past the doctor and wraps her fingers around his. He squeezes her hand. "Hey, I'm okay."

She shakes her head, biting her lip. "This is not okay. My god, Daniel."

She drops her bag on the floor, and Danny rubs a thumb over her hand. "Hey, hey. Come here, I'm all right."

He takes the pain in his chest in his stride as she leans in to carefully hug him, breathes in the smell of her hair. "Danny," she whispers softly. 

Over her shoulder, someone clears their throat, and they come apart. Rachel turns, coloring a bit. "Sorry. Rachel Williams." She holds out a hand to the doctor, who shakes it. Danny listens as the doctor runs through his injuries a second time for Rachel's benefit. She nods carefully, clearly taking note of everything. 

Trent tries to blend into the wall at the other end of the room, but after the doctor leaves, Rachel focuses on him. "Are you okay?" she asks.

That, clearly, he did not expect. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's Danny who--" Trent makes a futile gesture. 

"It's not your fault," Danny says, because it needs to be said. "You know that, buddy."

"Yeah."

"Go home. Fiona will be waiting."

"I can manage him," Rachel says with a watery smile, and Danny stops himself just in time from rolling his eyes. 

"Okay. You hang in there, Danny."

"Sure thing."

Danny watches him go, takes Rachel's hand in his again. "Did they call you out of your dinner? I'm sorry."

"Are you kidding me?" She arches an eyebrow at him. "They called before we left. Do you really think I would blame you for this?" 

Danny shakes his head, stops. "No. No, of course not. I'm sorry, I'm not thinking straight. Where's Gracie?"

"She's at your parents'." Rachel reaches up and smoothes his hair off his forehead. "My god, Danny..."

"It's not as bad as it looks," he tries with a lopsided smile. He feels her finger tracing the skin at the corner of his mouth, knows it's a bruise she's touching. He suppresses the thought of how it got there. 

"From what I can see, it's bad enough," she replies, her voice stern, her eyes damp. 

Danny takes a moment to let the memories sink back in, takes a moment to think about what could have happened, and then stamps them back down. "Yeah."

\--

He's released late that night and Rachel drives them home, helping him carefully up the stairs. His hamstring muscle twinges and shakes, threatening to give way again, and Danny's head is pounding by the time he levers himself into bed. 

Rachel gets him a glass of water and pills, and Danny takes them gratefully, not feeling well enough to even pretend he doesn't need them. 

She walks out of the room, and he calls her back. 

"Danny?"

He has to swallow his pride at this one, but still. "Stay," he says. 

"I'm just going to lock the door," she replies, giving him a quick smile. "I'll be right back."

He listens for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, the sound of the lock turning, Rachel coming back up the stairs. He breathes out when she comes back in, watches her change quickly into a pair of flannel pajamas, and she slides between the sheets next to him. 

He pulls her in with one arm, tucks her against his relatively uninjured left side. She snuggles cautiously. "This all right for you?"

"I'm fine," he says, belying the dark, vivid bruises on his chest, the way his back throbs, the angry shivering of his hamstring muscle.

"Please don't say that," Rachel replies. 

"Sorry." They lie in silence for a while. Danny can feel the drugs beginning to pull him under, and finally gives in.

\--

He wakes to an empty bed, to the sound of voices downstairs, but just getting up to go to the bathroom makes his head throb and spin, and he decides to crawl back into bed instead of braving the stairs. 

Moments later, there are footsteps and the door opens. Rachel's voice, cautious. "Danny?"

"Yeah." He turns his head slowly to look at her. "Why aren't you at work?"

"I took the day off," she says with a measure of irritation, and he lets it drop. 

"Who's here?"

"Your parents, and Grace."

 _Oh, shit_. He thinks about his daughter seeing him like this, and grimaces. "What did you tell her?"

"That you had an accident." Rachel comes into the room. "Are you up to seeing them?"

He doesn't have much of a choice, plus he wants to see Grace. He sits up carefully. "Yeah, if you can hand me a clean t-shirt."

Rachel nods, turning to the closet and finding him something clean and soft. She has to help him pull it on, because lifting his right arm is too painful. When he's done, he's breathing hard. 

Rachel puts a hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Danny nods, biting down on the frustration while trying to catch his breath. "Yeah. Give me a moment."

Rachel stays, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll get your pills in a minute, and some breakfast. Then I'll send your parents up first, and then Grace, if you're up for it."

"Okay." He leans into her touch for a moment, but too soon, she gets up and moves away. 

\--

Once the pills kick in, it's easier to face his parents; his mother worried, his father more calm but frowning. Once they've seen he's okay, they are calmer, and when Rachel brings Grace up, they head back downstairs. 

Grace peers at him from the foot end of the bed, cautiously. "Are you okay, daddy?"

"Yeah." Danny reaches out with his left arm. "Come up here, monkey, I don't break."

"Mommy says you were hurt."

"I was," Danny confirms. "I had a bit of an accident, but the doctor made it all better."

Grace comes towards him, clambers onto the side of the bed and sits there, legs tucked under herself. "Can I hug you, Danno? Hugs make everything better."

"They do, babe." He smiles at her. "Come here, just be careful, okay?"

Her weight against his chest is almost too much, and he gasps for breath a little, but nothing weighs up against holding his daughter in his arms. "Hey, Danno loves you."

"I love you, too, daddy."

Grace extricates herself and sits there. "Are you going to be home all day?"

"Yeah. I'm going to be home for a few days."

Grace smiles widely. "Mommy let me stay home from school today."

"Yeah, well, you're going back tomorrow," Danny resolves. "But I'm glad you're here, monkey."

"Me, too," Gracie replies.

\--

Trent visits in the afternoon, still full of guilt that he by all rights shouldn't have, and Danny doesn't quite manage not to fall asleep on him. He wakes to soft voices talking downstairs, and dozes, wakes again when Matt's in the room. 

"Wow, you do manage to scare everyone, big brother."

There are fine lines around Matt's eyes, and Danny suspects he's not slept well. He feels suddenly guilty for upsetting the entire family like this. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, sure." Matt raises an eloquent eyebrow. "Of course you are. How about a game of touch football, then?"

"Haha, very funny."

"Seriously, though." Matt looks at him for a few seconds, making Danny shift until his body reminds him how bad an idea that is. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Me too."

"Yeah." Matt blows out a slow breath. "So what happened out there? I had a word with Massaro, but--"

"Trent's still here?"

"Yeah, he's downstairs with Rachel and Grace."

Danny shrugs, decides not to do that again either. He makes an empty gesture with his left arm. "I got jumped. Did something stupid and paid for it."

"Okay." 

He can tell Matt wants to ask, but really doesn't fancy talking about it. "I'm fine. I was lucky."

"Okay," Matt says a second time. Distantly, the doorbell chimes and Danny sighs. More visitors, of course. 

He hears Rachel open the door, hears her speak to someone, her footfalls on the stairs. She opens the door. "Danny? Captain Reynolds is here, with two detectives."

Danny nods. Matt stands. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thanks."

\--

After giving his statement and listening to Reynolds' promises about finding the guys who did this, he's exhausted again, tired enough to sleep through dinner and miss his medication time. He wakes sore and nauseous, and barely manages to hold down the toast Rachel makes him so he can take the meds. 

She sits by his bedside, rubs his good arm, strokes his sweaty hair, and doesn't once complain. He's grateful, tries to tell her between waves of roiling nausea and dizzy spells, and she smiles. "We're married, Daniel. For better or for worse, right?"

"Well, this is definitely for worse," Danny tries, but he can't really manage to sound anything other than pathetic. 

"Get some rest, Danny." She kisses his forehead, and he awkwardly pulls her down beside him. 

"It's nice, having you home."

"Don't get used to it; work called to ask when I would be in."

"You going in tomorrow?"

She lifts her head from his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"I can manage."

"Not until you can actually make your way down the stairs." She brushes her hair from her face. "Even if they might fire me for it."

Danny frowns. "They threatened to fire you?"

"Not in so many words. But..."

"But what?" He sits up a little. "Rach?"

She shakes her head. "I didn't want to tell you now, but-- Some people are being let go."

"They're having problems? I thought everything was fine, Matt--"

"Matt doesn't work in the same business I do," she snaps. "Sorry. If I hadn't missed that dinner, maybe made a good impression on Stan Edwards, I'd probably be looking at better prospects."

"Jesus." Danny leans back into the pillows, tries not to add this worry on top of all the other ones. 

"I can manage," Rachel says. "I'll go back in the day after tomorrow, straighten things out." Meaning, _work lots of overtime_. "Your parents offered to take Grace, so that's arranged, and Matt promised to pitch in if we needed him."

"Can you still take time off this summer?"

"Probably. I'll check." She rubs her hand over his shoulder. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"You're not," Danny says automatically. "I'm fine."

He lies awake for a long time, though.

\--

By the end of the next day, he can move around, make his way down the stairs and sit in front of the tv to watch the news. It isn't much, but it's enough to make Rachel go back to work, exchanging a look with him over Grace's head. 

He follows her to the door. "Rachel..."

She looks at him. "Danny?"

"How bad is it?"

She gives him a smile. "It's nothing too serious, I think. Just the markets shaking out, and we're taking a bit of a beating. I'll make up the hours and they'll keep me, Danny."

He nods, still cautious, though his head feels much clearer this morning. "Okay."

"Can you get Gracie?"

"Sure." He leans in to kiss her cheek, and she turns her head at the same time, making them both smile. Danny steps back and goes to get his daughter so Rachel can drop her off at school. 

\--

He wakes to the ringing of his cell phone, his mouth tasting like chalk as he struggles up from a restless, drug induced sleep, scrambles for the phone and unearths it from the bag of possessions they'd gotten from the hospital.

"Hello?"

"Danny?"

Steve's voice, cautious and careful, and Danny rubs his eyes. _Fuck_. "Hey, yeah, it's me."

Steve clears his throat. "Look, Danny, if this isn't working for you, you can just tell me, okay?"

"No. No. That's not it." He takes a deep breath. "I got beat, couple of days ago. I've spent most of the last few days in bed."

The shock is audible in Steve's voice. "What?"

"Yeah." Danny sits up, ignores the strain in his chest, the twingeing of his leg muscle from having lain in the same position for too long. "I would have called you, but I was sort of out of it on painkillers."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," Danny says again with a sigh. 

"Can I..." Steve breathes in slowly. "Can I see you?"

Danny flexes his hands, wonders if he could manage a drive right about now. As much as he knows he shouldn't, he really, really wants to see Steve, kiss the worry he can hear in Steve's voice off his lips. "Yeah, babe, I'll come over."

\--

The drive goes okay, though Danny is exhausted by the time he gets to Steve's motel, and glad he had the foresight to bring his meds. Steve opens the door on his knock, peers at him distrustfully, and Danny smiles. 

"Hey, babe."

Steve looks him over, eyes lingering on the fading bruise on Danny's chin. "What happened?"

His voice is tense and Danny can see the concealed worry radiating from his posture. "Someone didn't like me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Stop looking at me like I'm a bug, babe. You know I don't like that face."

Steve nods distractedly. "How bad is it?"

Danny raises an eyebrow. "Oh, you want to see? This is an excuse to get me naked?"

"Danny--"

He holds up a hand. "Okay, okay. I'll show you, put your mind at ease. It looks worse than it is."

"Not reassuring me," Steve replies, frowning. 

Danny shrugs, carefully, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed, slowly stretching out his injured leg, and strips the shirt from his shoulders. 

He knows how bad it looks, has seen it in Rachel's eyes and in the mirror every morning. Angry multi-colored bruises are stretching over the right side of his chest and warping around his back, stretching down past his pants and up over his shoulder. They hurt as much as they look like they will, and Danny is grateful for medical science and pills. 

He glances at Steve, who stands stock still at the foot of the bed, eyes taking in Danny's skin. He rubs a hand over his mouth. "Jesus, Danny..."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Danny repeats, trying to wipe the wrecked look off Steve's face. He meets Steve's eyes, wide with emotion, and holds out his good hand. "Come here."

Steve comes, hesitant, kneeling in front of Danny, hands twitching but not touching. Danny takes Steve's fingers in his and brings their hands to his cheek, pressing a kiss against Steve's palm. "Hey. I'm okay."

"No," Steve replies. "You're not, Danny."

"Okay," Danny admits with a grimace, "I'm not, but I will be."

"Danny..." Steve pulls his hand out of Danny's grip to run the pads of his fingers down Danny's bruised right side, over the lighter colors where they fade into angry, dark purple skin. Danny hisses at the contact, more an instinctive response than because it hurts, and Steve pulls his hand away. 

"Who jumped you?"

"Some drug dealers who aren't important."

Steve is frowning. "Who?"

"This is not something you have anything to do with, babe. They'll serve their time for this."

He can tell Steve is itching for payback, and instead he reaches out and tips Steve's face up, leaning in to kiss him softly. Steve kisses back, still a little distracted, and Danny nuzzles his cheek, wanders away and kisses an ear. Steve's arms come up and around him, he moves closer, and Danny can feel the moment where Steve gives in, the moment where he lets go and buries his face against Danny's neck. 

"I know," Danny whispers, and his voice is suddenly teetering on the edge of breaking. "I'm okay, it's okay."

" _Danny_." Steve doesn't manage anything more, sounds like he's already too close to losing it. 

Danny holds him for a while, silently, until his leg starts protesting, and he has to move. Steve shifts away, runs a hand over his mouth and comes up off the floor, blushing a little. Danny looks up at him. "When are you leaving?"

He can see the way Steve shifts gears, the way his face goes expressionless. "Day after tomorrow."

"Fuck," Danny says out loud. 

"Yeah."

They share a look, and Danny tries a smile. "I don't want you to read anything into this, babe, because I'm so not up for anything athletic, but I gotta rest my leg, so I'm gonna lie down for a bit."

Steve nods, watches as Danny shifts carefully until he can sit up against the headboard. "What happened to your leg?"

Danny needs a beat to catch his breath before he can reply. "Bruised muscle. Not pretty, but nothing serious."

"Okay," Steve says, and sounds like he means the exact opposite. He comes around the bed and sits down on the other side, bends down to unlace his boots and then joins Danny in stretching out. 

Danny glances sideways, looking at the frown that's marring Steve's face. He takes a slow breath to keep his chest from complaining too much, and says, "So, since we can't be _otherwise_ occupied, why don't you tell me how you ended up in the Navy?"

Steve's eyebrows twitch, and he gives Danny a look that might be incredulous. "I told you. I missed the ocean."

"Yeah, you told me." Danny bites his lip to keep from grinning. "You also said there were reasons you had to leave Hawaii."

Steve runs a hand over his mouth. "My mother died, and my father sent us to the mainland."

Danny raises his head off the pillows in surprise. "Us?"

"Me and my sister. She went to our aunt and uncle in California, and I went to live with my father's cousin and his wife in Iowa."

Danny has to close his mouth forcibly. "You were separated?"

"Yes." Steve doesn't look at him. 

"How old were you?"

"Fifteen."

Danny tries imagining that, his family torn apart when he was fifteen, no one to fall back on but distant relatives, and he can't. "I'm sorry, babe."

Steve shrugs, and that explains so much about him. Well, some of it, anyway; if anything, Danny is learning that Steve is a complicated puzzle and no single piece explains the whole. 

"Are you close to your sister?"

Steve shrugs again. "We're not a very close family. I call her sometimes."

There's so many stories behind these simple responses, but Danny doesn't want to interrogate Steve, doesn't want to pry. "So Iowa made you miss the ocean?"

"Yeah." Steve smiles at a memory, and Danny bites his tongue to keep from asking. "One day the recruiters came to school, and well, I knew. Signed up the next day."

Danny feels something inside his heart tug and break a little. Steve's first love is the Navy, and that would be unfair, except Danny's first love is Rachel, and yeah. For a single, brilliant moment, everything hurts. "Never looked back, huh?"

"No." Steve glances at him. "Same as you being a cop, I guess."

Danny nods. "Is your dad still alive?"

"Yeah."

"Proud of you?"

Something twitches in Steve's face, and _okay then_. Danny makes a note to back off from that topic. "I guess," Steve says, voice distant.

Danny thinks of his own father, his parents, who always supported his choices, those of his sisters, Matt's. They're silent for a moment. 

"It was harder on Mary than on me," Steve says, and his voice is low. 

Danny twists on his side as much as he can manage so he can look at Steve. "Mary's your sister?"

Steve nods. He meets Danny's gaze, and the emotions in his face are painful to see. Danny's hand twitches to keep from reaching out and putting his fingers against Steve's lips to stop him from talking. "She was younger, and... She was always a bit wilder than me."

"She get into trouble?"

"Some. I don't know exactly how much." 

Steve touches his fingers to his mouth as if to stop himself from talking. Danny reaches out and wraps his hand around Steve's wrist. "Didn't mean to bring up bad memories for you, babe." Steve shrugs, and Danny is suddenly really tired of that. "And don't tell me it's okay, or you can take it, or whatever bullshit those SEAL people taught you. This is heavy shit, it's okay to be upset."

Steve's mouth twitches, this time into a semblance of a smile. "Yeah?"

The heavy irony is probably his way of deflecting, and Danny lets him. "Yeah. One day, my friend, you will learn that."

"Shut up, Danny."

Danny mimes zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key, and he can see the frustrated frown form on Steve's face, making him laugh. The next moment, Steve is laughing, too, leaning in close, and Danny tugs him in for a soft, closed mouth kiss. 

"So I guess," Steve says as they come apart, "that you had one of those ridiculously well adjusted childhoods straight out of the movies."

"Oh, yeah," Danny replies, grinning. "So well adjusted, let me tell you about it."

\--

The drive back, when he's tired and his muscles are screaming that he's done just a little bit too much today isn't easy, and Danny's glad to crawl into bed with some pills and nothing but himself for company. 

He wakes hours later, to silence in the room but faint sounds downstairs, and the clock tells him it's past dinner time. He makes his way down carefully, and Rachel is sitting next to Grace on the couch, tv playing some brightly colored cartoons that makes Danny's hung over brain flinch. 

"Hey," he says, and Rachel gives him a smile. 

"Hi."

"Hello, Danno." Gracie glances at him only briefly, focusing her eyes back on the set, absorbed in a story that seems to involve talking animals. Some things don't change. 

"Do you want something to eat?" Rachel stands, already halfway to the kitchen as Danny nods. He follows her there. 

"When did you get in?"

"Around six." She looks over her shoulder. "What did you do today?"

He feels a momentary flash of guilt and worry, then remembers that it's an innocent question, and feels like a worm again. "I, uh..." He doesn't want to lie to her. "I lay in bed, mostly."

"Good." She's making his favorite sandwich without having to ask him, layers on extra mayo. 

"How was work?" Danny manages to ask. 

"It was all right." She shrugs. "Lots to do, but that was to be predicted."

"They're not looking sideways at you yet?"

Her lips twitch into a smile. "I really didn't mean to worry you, Daniel."

"I know." He takes the plate she offers him and bites into the sandwich. "Thank you."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," she says with the same sort of automatic reaction she uses with Grace. Danny tries to work up some annoyance at it, but he can't reach it. "I'm not losing my job that easily. Like I said, it'll shake out."

"Okay." He doesn't need to remind her, the financial wizard of the two of them, that they can't afford the mortgage on just his salary. He continues chewing his sandwich, and she leans back against the kitchen counter. 

"Danny..."

"Hmm?"

He looks up, and she looks sad, her hair falling around her face. There was a time, Danny remembers, when all he had to do was smile at her, and she would smile, too. They are long past that, long past the time when having a daughter and a marriage and two careers could work, long past the time when Danny didn't look at anyone else, and he wonders, right then, standing in his own kitchen, if divorce is the inevitable rocky shore they're headed for. 

"I don't want to lose you," he blurts out, and Rachel meets his gaze with startled eyes. 

"Danny," she says again, "I don't know, I..." She runs a hand through her hair. "I just don't know any more. Saying it should be easier doesn't make it so."

"I know that," he replies quickly, holding up a hand, trying not to think about the way his stomach cramps at the idea of not having Rachel in his life, and the way it also cramps at the thought of Steve leaving, so soon. He has to choose, and he should choose Rachel, his family, his daughter, his _wife_. "But we can work on it, Rachel, we can."

"How?" Her face is sad again. "What can we change, Daniel?"

He wants to argue, wants to give her answers, a dozen possible things crowding his brain, but none are realistic, are workable. "We have to try," he says finally. 

"Yes." She nods. "Look, after the summer... I'll go see my parents, and..." She sighs. "You have to let me make my own choices, Danny."

He nods. His stomach cramps at the idea of being apart from Grace, and from her, for a whole month, too. 

\--

"I don't know, ask Sabrina about it. Yes, I know. No." Rachel is walking around the kitchen, her heels clicking on the linoleum, and Gracie is watching her pace back and forth like she's observing a debate. 

Danny sits at the breakfast table and watches his daughter, listening to Rachel's increasingly agitated tone. 

"Does it matter?" She pauses, makes a random gesture, and resumes her movement. "No. For the hundredth time, no, no, no."

"Rachel," Danny tries. 

She waves him off. "Then look on her desk. It has to be somewhere." A pause. "Yes, I'll be in in," she looks at her watch, "an hour."

" _Rachel_ ," Danny says again.

"Mommy," Gracie adds.

She glances at the both of them, holds up a finger in the classic one moment sign. "Well, can it wait till then?"

"Rachel!" Danny yells.

She covers the phone, frowning at him. "What, Daniel? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Danny's blood pressure skyrockets, and he stands up. "I can see that. But you know, it's just that our daughter needs to go to school, and I think that's more important than whatever paperwork seems to have gone missing."

"I'll be five minutes, Danny, she can wait that long."

"No, see, she really can't," Danny shoots back, gesturing to their daughter, "because schools, you know, they frown on kids being late, and our daughter is the sort of kid that doesn't like being frowned on, which should really make us happy, and you know, is something we should encourage."

Rachel arches an eyebrow at him, returns to the phone to say, "I'll call you right back," and hangs up. "Daniel," she says testily, turning back to him, "I will take our daughter to school. Happy now?"

"Happy? No, I am not happy, Rachel, for fuck's sake. Are you going to end up driving while talking on the phone again? Because I've told you before, I don't want you to do that."

"I don't give a shit what you want me to do," she hisses back. "I'll decide what I do, and right now, that's taking _my_ daughter to school, and you can stay here." She turns sharply on her heel and begins gathering her things.

What she implies leaves Danny breathless, and he clenches his hands to fists. "Rachel, I am talking to you!"

"We can talk _later_ , Daniel," she replies without looking at him. 

He reaches out and grabs her arm, pulling her back. "The hell we will, we are talking _now_."

She freezes in place. "Danny, let go of my arm." Her voice is suddenly calm, almost distant. "Danny, let go. You are hurting me."

He looks at her face, sees she's white as a sheet, looks at Gracie, who's staring at him with big brown eyes, and then at his hand, gripping Rachel's arm. He lets go abruptly. "Shit. Shit, Rachel, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she replies, too quickly and not like she means it, and she reaches out to lift Grace out of her chair, instead of letting her walk. Danny picks up Grace's schoolbag automatically and hands it to her, and she clings to it, looking at him from Rachel's arms.

\--

He drives without thinking, keeps going while pretending to himself that he has no destination, unerringly taking the right turns nonetheless. 

Steve blinks at him, wearing sweats and no shoes, and then starts frowning. "Danny? Everything okay?"

"No," Danny replies, brushing past him into the room. "No, because you're leaving and I shouldn't care that you're leaving, but you are and I do, and my life is falling apart and I don't know how to fucking stop it. I don't even know what I'm doing here, jesus."

"Hey, hey, hey." Steve puts a hand on his arm, anchoring him and keeping him from pacing. "Easy."

Danny tries to take a deep breath, but pain stabs through his chest and he hunches over. He can feel Steve's arm around him, guiding him, sitting him down. He opens his eyes without remembering having closed them and finds himself sitting on the bed. 

Steve is kneeling in front of him. "Hey, Danny. You okay?"

He nods, then shakes his head. "Fuck. I shouldn't be here."

"Don't say that."

Danny looks at Steve. "I'm a class A jerk, to you, to Rachel, to my daughter, I mean, _jesus_ , what am I doing, huh? And why can't I stop?"

Steve gets up, moves away and looks down at him. 

"Yeah," Danny says, meeting his eyes. "I should walk out that door, Steve, I should walk out and never come back. Forget I met you, forget I know what you feel like under my hands, and I can't. I can't make myself do it, and that makes me the lowest kind of asshole. Stringing you along, Rachel..."

"You're not stringing me along. You told me what I was getting into."

"And you are fine with that?"

Steve looks at him. "It's not like I can do normal relationships in my job."

Danny understands, in that instant, why an affair with a married guy is attractive to Steve; Danny has as much to lose if this comes out, secrecy is a requirement. He doesn't say anything, just sits and looks at Steve, and feels a sick sense of compassion. Finally, he manages, "So I'm just being an ass to Rachel, then?"

Steve looks away. 

"Yeah," Danny says. "That's what I thought."

"Look, Danny, I don't have any answers here."

"I know." Danny runs a hand over his hair. "I know, okay? I shouldn't have come." 

He starts to get up when Steve says, "I'm glad you did. I missed you."

"I was here yesterday."

Steve looks sheepish. "Yeah, well... You weren't before and--"

"Oh, man." Danny gets up, ignores the twinges in his right leg, and simply crowds Steve against the wall, kissing him. Everything else is wiped from his mind, because nothing changes about the circumstances, and Steve is kissing him back with a desperation he'd probably never admit to out loud. "Take me to bed," Danny says against his mouth. 

Steve doesn't reply, just kisses him again. 

\--

Steve sleeps fitfully, restless, the tension never fully leaving his body. Danny lets him have his space and lies awake, stares at the motel room ceiling and knows he's no closer to an answer than he was three hours ago. 

He shouldn't be here, but he wants to be here, wants to be here so bad, and he doesn't want to give this up. Steve will go to wherever he goes -- how twisted is it to have an affair with someone when you don't know where he lives? -- and Danny will have to go back to a life that's falling apart and he can't stop it from happening. 

Steve shifts, rolls over and into Danny, jerks awake. Danny smiles at his startled eyes, and Steve presses his nose into Danny's shoulder, burrows back under the blankets. Danny can't help reaching out and running his fingers through Steve's hair, and he makes a sound, satisfied and sleep-drunk, his eyes falling shut. 

Danny watches him, feeling a familiar warmth spread in his chest, and _yeah, okay_ , he's in too deep.

\--

Danny dozes with Steve sleeping pressed up against him, and only wakes from his slumber when Steve gets up out of bed. 

"I'm gonna hit the shower," Steve says needlessly, crossing the room, naked. 

Danny looks, just looks and takes him in, long legs, perfect ass, nice dick, great abs, and shoulders Danny could trace his hands over forever, with the ink curling around Steve's right bicep like an extra bonus just for Danny. 

Steve watches him in return, taking in the way Danny's gaze is sliding over him, and Danny can't help but grin, can't help but palm himself under the covers, and it makes Steve grin back, making him look young and carefree. 

"You should--" Danny's voice is rough and he has to clear his throat. "You should smile more often, babe."

Steve ducks his head and Danny watches that, too. 

"Go on," he says magnanimously. "Go do your thing."

Steve goes, and Danny sinks back into the pillows, tries not to think about how he should be heading home soon, away from here, away from this. 

\--

Danny showers quickly, dries himself off with scratchy motel towels, and puts his clothes back on. When he steps out into the room, Steve is packing, and it hits Danny in the face. 

Steve looks up when he hesitates in the doorway, and when their eyes meet, Danny knows they both know. 

"I have to go," Steve says unnecessarily, helplessly. 

"I know, babe," Danny replies, and his voice comes out thick. 

"I..."

"Yeah."

"You don't even know what I was going to say," Steve argues. 

"No, but whatever it is, I probably agree."

Steve looks at him assessingly. "Can I call you, Danny?"

He wants to say no. He wants to say that it should end here, that it's for the best, all the things he thought about for the last hours, the last few days. He knows he should, knows this can't end well, none of this, but when he opens his mouth, he can't make the words come. He bites his lip, runs a hand over his hair. "Yeah. Yeah, you can call me."

A corner of Steve's mouth twitches into something resembling an attempt at a smile. Danny feels a different but familiar sadness in his chest, looking at Steve. He moves in, tips Steve's chin up with one hand, and leans in to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

"Stay safe out there, yeah?"

"You, too."

"Okay." Danny steals one last kiss. "I have to go."

"Danny," Steve says, his voice twisting on the name. 

"I know," Danny manages a second time, then goes to the door and leaves.

\--

He drives until his eyes start blurring, and then he makes himself pull over. It takes him a few deep, painful breaths before he blinks his eyes clear, forcing away the image of Steve's face as he last saw him, forcing everything deep into the recesses of his brain. 

He starts the car up again and drives home.

\--

Rachel is cautious, and the events of the morning rush back, and though Danny is whirling where he stands, he still installs his daughter in front of cartoons in the living room with the promise of bringing her a drink before joining his wife in the kitchen. 

"I'm sorry about this morning."

Rachel glances sideways at him. "It's all right."

Danny shakes his head. "No, it really, really isn't."

"Okay," she nods. "It wasn't, but I know you didn't mean it."

Danny leans against the counter. "Rachel, I..." He runs a hand over his face. "I crossed a line, I... I scared myself doing that. Jesus."

She turns to him. "Danny, it's okay."

It isn't, because there is so much simmering under Danny's skin, but this, at least, he can prevent from happening again. "Okay. Okay, good. As long as we're okay."

"We're okay," she replies with a soft smile, and when she steps closer he pulls her easily into his arms and holds her close.

\--

Monday morning and Danny finds himself riding a desk, his blood pressure hitting the ceiling by the time it's noon. It's frustrating not to be able to _do_ something, to sit and fill out paperwork without seeing the rewarding other side of it. 

Trent meets him for lunch. "We cleaned out the 49ers hangout on Friday."

"Yeah?" Danny pokes a fork into his food. "You get a warrant for that?"

"After what happened? The ADA tripped over himself so fast he was getting us a warrant."

"Hmm." He chews listlessly. "And?"

Trent shrugs in between bites. "Found a stash of guns and some drugs, enough to put a bunch of them away on charges. The guys who got you... not so much, unless we get a confession."

Danny realizes Reynolds had known this when he looked at Danny cross-eyed that morning as he came in, and Trent taking him out to lunch is a way to break it to him softly. He bristles at it; he doesn't need coddling. "Yeah, I figured that. Without me making an ID, they can't do anything."

He hadn't been able to provide much of an ID, being grabbed from behind, and the descriptions he'd been able to give are too vague. "You can look at some mug shots," Trent offers. 

"Yeah." Danny throws his fork down on his plate, not hungry any more. "I will."

\--

He grabs himself a cup of coffee when they return, and actually sits down to look at the mug shots. As he's opening the files, he's wondering whether he wants to recognize faces or if he prefers to never see them again. It's the coward's way out, and he doesn't take it. 

He finds the owner of the gym first, the guy in the football jersey, and he turns out to be called Jake Jarvis. His rap sheet shows he's in custody because of the illegal weapons found on his premises, as well as a possession charge. Well, good for him. 

Danny knows in his bones that Jarvis ordered the attack on him, but they'll never be able to prove that unless they flip one of his assailants. 

He runs a hand through his hair and takes another sip of coffee, opens the next file. 

No luck, and he sits flipping through files until he suddenly finds himself staring at a familiar face. 

He remembers the guy he shoulder checked, trying to break the circle they had him in, and the memory sends a shard of phantom pain through his chest, making his breath catch. He leans back and takes a few slow, deep breaths, real muscle twinges, fainter now, grounding him back to the room he's in, the chair he's sat on. 

Garth Warren, aged 23, is staring back at him from the computer screen, his record listing a firearms violation and a domestic, as well as a failed prosecution for a liquor store robbery.

He sends Warren's details to the printer, and continues looking through the files. There might be something there, but he has no clue; their faces begin to blur and run together in front of his eyes, and he reaches for his coffee cup to find it empty. 

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up. Reynolds gives him a taut smile. "This your man?" He holds up the printouts of Warren's rap sheet. 

Danny nods. "Yeah, Captain. He was there."

"All right. We'll bring him in."

\--

He spends the afternoon in the basement gym, half-heartedly punching the shit out of a sandbag, but every time he manages to work up a nice rhythm, his injuries remind him he's not quite healed yet. 

It's a frustrating drive home, stuck in back to back traffic, and when he's finally done inching to his turn off, he feels cooked and angrier than when he started out. 

Rachel isn't home yet, and he drags himself to the living room couch, flipping on the tv. The channel is still set to cartoons, and he ends up watching them, alternately flabbergasted and amused, until his eyes slide shut of their own accord.

\--

It takes a week to start feeling like himself again, for his leg to stop complaining every time he puts weight on it and his chest to stop protesting every time he breathes deeply. They haul in Garth Warren, and he can't produce an alibi, but he refuses to flip and it visibly frustrates Trent. 

"Come on, I so much as offered to let the guy walk if he would just talk, and not even that." He pounds the desk with his fist. 

Danny shrugs. "We'll get him. It's got to be enough."

"Are you really okay with that?"

No, Danny isn't, but what is he going to do? He's spent more and more time in the gym lately, and now that he can move again, it's a place to actually vent his frustration, and not take it home with him to his family. 

Trent idly rubs his hand and Danny catches sight of a bruise there. "I'm fine," he replies to Trent's question, and adds, "You taking stupid risks because I'm not there to have your back?"

"No, it's-- Forget about it, it's nothing."

"I'm going to be back to full duty soon, so don't get yourself killed until then, yeah?"

Trent meets his eyes and grins. "No chance, Williams."

"Yeah, well, good. I'd hate to have to teach someone else how I take my coffee."

\--

April crawls into May, sunshine going from watery and thin to bright and heavy, and suddenly everything is warm and Danny starts switching on the AC in the house. 

The phone rings early in the second week of May, and Danny answers it without thought, in between juggling a file and a cup of coffee he brought in since the department coffee maker gave out the day before. 

"Hello."

"Hi."

Steve's voice stops him cold. Since Danny had last seen him and gave Steve permission to call him, he had not in fact heard from him, and between his job and depositions because of the assault, he has tried not to think about that at all. "Hi yourself," he manages, dumping the files and coffee on his desk, turning around and walking straight back out. "How've you been?"

Like they're old friends, like this is any ordinary phone call, except for the way Danny walks around the corner and stops in the alley way next to the dumpsters instead of having this conversation in public. 

"I'm good," Steve says, and clears his throat. 

"I would ask you where you've been, but I guess you can't talk about it."

"No."

It feels awkward and distant, and Danny wonders if time has smoothed over his attraction somewhat. He wracks his brains for something to say. 

"How are you?" Steve says, beating him to it.

"Busy," Danny replies honestly. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Then he makes the mistake of closing his eyes, just briefly, and imagining Steve's face, the frown lines between his eyes, the way he would squint to see what lay beneath Danny's words, and suddenly, Danny is wishing Steve is right in front of him, wishing he could fold his arms around him and press his face into his hair, and it's both absurd and painful. 

He opens his mouth and starts talking, tells Steve about the ID, the depositions, the way he hates how they can only get the one guy, and that Warren won't flip and he knows it was Jarvis, he knows it in his blood. 

Steve listens, a quiet presence on the other end, and Danny doesn't have to censor himself, doesn't bite back details the way he does with Rachel, doesn't have to listen for Gracie's footsteps, worry that she overhears. 

"I miss you," Danny says. 

Steve breathes out slowly. "Yeah," he replies. 

He can feel the hollow space in his chest that he's been ignoring for the last month, can feel the way he stuffed it full and plastered over it, the million little ways he's been pretending. It hurts, mute and throbbing. He presses a fist to his chest. "I shouldn't ask when I can see you."

"I don't know." 

Danny tips his head back and stares at the bright blue sky. 

"I have to go," Steve says apologetically. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay," Danny replies. "Don't worry about me; I'm okay."

\--

Warren won't plead out, as much to Danny's frustration as well as the ADA's, and he ends up with a court date in the middle of May. Rachel takes the day off work, drops Grace off at Danny's parents, and shows up in court with Matt in tow. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you to, bro. I'm supporting my big brother, will you shut up?"

Danny pulls him in for a hug, suddenly grateful for the support, although he knows he'll have to testify with both Rachel and Matt listening. It can't be helped. 

It's easier to talk if he doesn't look at them sitting in the third row, and the ADA walks him calmly through his testimony. When the defense drags up his police record Danny has to clamp down hard on his anger, but he gets through it, and the court breaks for lunch. 

"Come on, let's get some food," Matt says, and he and Rachel drag him out of the room. 

Danny sits down and orders, but by the time the food arrives he isn't really hungry any more, and moves his fries around his plate morosely. 

Rachel reaches across the table and lays her hand on his. "It's okay, Danny."

He looks up at her, and she smiles slightly. "Yeah." He runs a hand over his face. "Thanks, Rach."

She squeezes his fingers, and he curls his thumb around her hand to keep her right there with him.

\--

The verdict comes back with a prison sentence, and only then Danny can feel a weight lifting he didn't realize had been pressing down on him. He's smiling and Rachel's kissing him and Matt's laughing. 

"Now we party," his brother says, and Danny looks at him. 

"What?"

"We go to Mom and Pop's house, have some beers, bit of a barbecue..."

Danny looks from Matt to Rachel. "You guys planned this?"

Rachel smiles. "Yes."

"Ah, you are good." Danny puts an arm around her and pulls her close, and she leans into him. "You're a good family."

Matt punches his shoulder and grins. "We're the best."

\--

It's properly over and Danny kicks back, watches his family mill around and bring him beers and food, and Gracie sits in the chair next to him with her coloring book, asking for his opinion on the different shades of pink that make up the My Little Pony picture she's bent over. 

He agrees with her that cherry purple is too dark for the mane, suggests fuchsia instead, and Grace's face splits open in a big smile. "You're the best, Daddy!" she says enthusiastically, and Danny smiles back. 

Nothing can take this away from him, how good this feels, the people he loves around him, good food, good beer, what more could he want from life? Something niggles at the back of his brain but he clamps down over it, presses it into deep, dark corners and resolves not to think about it. Not today. 

His sisters are bickering at the barbecue, his father is mediating with a spatula, and his mother drops into a seat on the other side of him. "Penny for 'em, Danny."

"I dunno, Ma. I don't sell them cheap."

She laughs and he laughs, too, and Gracie, ever perceptive, is watching them from under her bangs. "Can you sell thoughts?"

"You can make a very good living doing that," his mother says, and Danny grins. 

"I think I want to do that when I get older," Grace replies thoughtfully. 

He leans in and kisses the top of her head. "Sounds like a good plan, monkey." She takes after her mother, same kind of clever brains. Danny's grateful for it; it'll make it easier for her in life. 

"Daddy, will you buy a thought now? So I can practice?"

She looks confused when they both burst out laughing again.

\--

"I can't believe what you're teaching our daughter," Rachel says on the way home, but she's smiling widely. She's looking beautiful in her summer dress, with the tip of her nose ever so slightly sunburned, and Danny smiles back. 

His cheeks ache a little from smiling and laughing so much today, and it reminds him he's not been doing it much lately. "Why not? It's what you do."

"I have a skill set, Danny." She glances at him and rolls her eyes. "Oh, you."

He laughs, leaning over to kiss her cheek once he's pulled up at the house. 

"Can you get Grace?" Rachel asks softly.

"Sure." He gets out and unbuckles his daughter, fast asleep on the backseat. She lets herself be lifted into his arms, trusting and quiet, snuggling into his shoulder on instinct. Rachel opens the front door and Danny carries her up to her bedroom, tucking her in as Rachel watches from the doorway. 

Danny closes the door behind them and leans in, kissing Rachel softly, carefully. Her mouth opens under his and he pulls her in, feeling her body against his own under the thin fabric of her dress. "I love you," he murmurs against her lips, wandering down to her throat. 

"I love you, too," she replies, her voice a little breathless as she steers them to the bedroom. Danny follows, nuzzling her neck, fumbling for the zipper on her back until she laughs softly and steers his hands right. 

She's unbuttoning his shirt as he slides the dress off her shoulders, and they move around each other with familiar, comfortable practice. He gets rid of his shirt as she breaks contact to let the dress fall down to the floor, and Danny feels his heart swell at the sight of her, feels his dick fill in his pants as he takes her in. 

Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. He has to ignore that now. 

Rachel starts on the button of his jeans and Danny fumbles with her bra, peeling it off so he can kiss her breasts, soft against his lips. 

"Danny." 

He looks up at her face, at her shining, beautiful eyes, and says, "Rachel?"

She smiles at him, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling him to her, pressing a kiss to his stomach before stripping off his jeans. Danny lets her for a moment, before sinking down and kissing her mouth, her cheek, her neck, down to her breasts and pressing her backward into the mattress. She arches up against him, a soft sound of pleasure that he knows so well. 

He slides a hand into her panties, and she surges up to kiss him as his fingers find her clit, making her pant against his mouth. He can't help but smile, breaking the kiss as she holds his gaze, her knowing eyes betraying mirth and joy and all the reasons he loves her so, so much.

Rachel puts a hand on his ass, pulling him in, and he gets the meaning, shucks his boxers and slides down her panties, and she wraps a leg around his waist, making his blood run south with dizzying speed. 

He mumbles her name, buries his face in her hair for a moment as he presses inside, her body slick and silky around him. She moves against him, speeding them up, familiar like a thousand times they've done this before. 

For a moment, Danny knows, knows for certain that they're not going to make it, and in the next instant it's gone and he wants to tell her, wants her forgiveness, wants to try again. He lifts his head to look at her, says her name. 

She frowns, as if something in his voice gave him away, and he shakes his head, kicks himself for even thinking it. "Rachel," he says again, kissing her, running his hand through her hair. 

"It's okay, Danny," she replies, and tightens the leg that still around his waist, pulling him impossibly close until he can feel every inch of her against him. 

\--

The world intrudes after the weekend, as it always does, and Danny sits in a steaming car in traffic, inching his way to work. Rachel calls when he's only halfway there, and he picks up the phone, presses it between his head and shoulder as he navigates a lane merger. 

"Yeah?"

"Danny, it's me." She sounds hurried and upset, and he pulls over onto the shoulder as soon as he's on the right lane. 

"What is it?"

"Grace's school just called; she's sick. We need to go and pick her up, but I'm already over the river and I have that meeting with Stan Edwards today."

Danny swears under his breath. "I'll go get her. Don't worry about it, Rachel, I'll get her and take her to the doctor's, it's probably just the flu, she'll be fine, don't worry."

He's babbling, already pulling back into traffic and signaling for the off ramp. 

"I'm sorry," she says, "I would do it, but--"

"Hey, hey, she's both our kid, don't worry."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll call you as soon as we've seen the doc, okay?"

"Thank you, Danny."

He smiles. "I love you."

"Love you." She hangs up and he dials the precinct.


	5. Chapter 5

Gracie is sleepy and clearly not feeling well, and when he carries her out to the car she throws up over his shirt and tie. He carefully buries his irritation at that, digs for napkins in the glove compartment and cleans himself up as best he can. 

When he carries her into the doctor's office, she blinks open big eyes at him. "Sorry, Danno."

"Not your fault, monkey."

"My tummy is funny."

"I know."

The nurse takes one look at them and smiles sympathetically. "Have a seat, Mr. Williams. It'll be a while, there's something going around."

The waiting room is filled with mostly women and young children, some of them more out of it than others. In the corner, one young girl is wailing at a frequency that makes Danny's ears hurt. He settles Gracie carefully into a chair. 

"I'll keep an eye on her if you want to wash up," the woman sitting next to him says with a smile. 

Danny smiles back. "Thank you, that'd be great." He shakes Grace's shoulder gently. "Gracie, this lady's gonna look after you for a second, okay? I'll be right back."

"I want Mommy," Grace replies, sullen and flushed. 

"I know," Danny replies as his heart breaks a little, and kisses her warm skin before finding his way to the bathroom. 

\--

The bathroom is clean and tastefully decorated, and Danny gets a sense of where the money goes that they pay for their health insurance. He's a little grateful for it at the same time when there's soap that helps scrub his shirt clean. The tie he dumps in the trash as a lost cause; Grace can get him one for his next birthday. 

He can still hear the muffled screaming of the unruly child in the waiting room, and it's making his head pound. He leans his hands on the sink and takes a few deep breaths, and his phone rings right in the middle. 

He answers without looking. "Rachel, I only just got here, we haven't--"

"It's me," Steve interrupts.

Danny swears silently, looking at his own reflection. With his shirt damp and his hair in disarray, he looks about as frazzled as he feels, and with everything that's happened, Steve is the last person he wants to talk to. "Hey."

"This a bad time?"

"The worst," Danny replies. 

"Sorry. I can call back later."

"No." 

Danny opens his mouth to say that Steve shouldn't call back ever, that this is it, Danny can't do this anymore, shouldn't do this anymore, when Steve says, "Are you okay, Danny?"

The honest concern in his voice makes Danny's mouth snap shut with an audible click. He takes another deep breath, tries to make his mouth form words, and fails. 

"Danny? Talk to me, man."

"It's my daughter," Danny says, feeling his worry over Gracie quadruple now that he doesn't have anything practical to focus on. "She's sick, I'm at the doctor's, I don't--"

"Is it bad?"

"I dunno, it's probably the flu, there's something going around."

"She'll be okay," Steve says with a certainty he can't have. "It'll be the flu, kids get that all the time. She'll be fine."

Danny closes his eyes and tries to absorb Steve's surety, tries to will it to be true. "Steve," he says helplessly. 

"It'll be okay, Danny," Steve replies promptly. 

"Yeah."

"Listen, get back to your kid. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah." Danny sucks in another breath. "Thank you."

"Don't sweat it." Steve hangs up, and Danny pockets his phone, giving his reflection one last look before heading back out. 

\--

"I'm Melissa," says the woman who's been watching Grace for him, holding out a hand. She has to raise her voice to be heard over the kid whining in the corner. 

"Danny." He shakes her hand before sitting down, letting Gracie curl into his side. "How are you doing, monkey?"

"I don't like my tummy."

"Yeah? I wouldn't either if it rebelled on me. The doctor will make it better." He lifts her into his lap, in spite of previous incident, and she rubs her nose against his shoulder. 

"How old is she?" Melissa asks.

"Five, going on six," Danny replies. He looks at the little girl sitting on the other side of her. "Who's that?"

"Danielle. She's eight."

"Flu?"

"Probably. But you never know, you know? And as a single parent, well, you know how it is."

Danny frowns. "No, I'm not-- My wife had to go into work."

"Oh." Melissa lets out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I just assumed..."

"It's okay," Danny replies with a smile. "Honest mistake."

\--

It takes an hour before they're called into the office, and by that point Danny's headache is pounding and Grace is irritable and grumpy. She refuses the doctor's attention, even pushes away the woman's hands, until Danny has to hold her back. 

It breaks his heart all over again, holding her small wrists in his hand. 

"It's probably just the flu," the doctor says reassuringly, "it's going around."

"So they tell me," Danny replies. He kisses the top of Grace's head. "Not much longer, monkey."

"I want to go home," Grace says, squirming in his grip. 

"I know, honey," the doctor says, taking her temperature. "Soon."

In the end, Grace is given a diagnosis of probable flu, with a list of things they have to look out for, and Danny swings by the pharmacy on his way home, picking up all the necessities for taking care of her before tucking her into bed. 

"I don't like you," Grace declares as he pulls the covers over her, "I want Mommy."

Danny is waiting for the Tylenol he's taken to kick in, and bites the inside of his cheek. "I know, monkey. She'll be home tonight."

"My head hurts."

"That's the fever. It'll be better soon, the medicine will help."

"I don't like medicine."

Danny sighs. "I know, honey." He sets up the baby monitor and pulls the curtains, switches on her revolving picture nightlight, and leaves the door ajar as he goes downstairs. 

\--

Rachel wakes him from where he's sleeping with his head on the kitchen table, and there's a crick in his neck and his head is pounding. He stares blearily at her. "What time is it?"

"A little past eight."

"Oh, jesus." He gets up, ignores the way his back and shoulders pop, and starts up the stairs. Rachel follows closely behind him. 

Grace is asleep, curled around her pillow, her little face flushed but her breathing regular and deep. Rachel puts a hand to her forehead. "She's warm," she whispers. 

Danny nods. "She's running a fever, I gave her Tylenol."

Rachel strokes a hand over Grace's hair. 

"Why don't you sit with her, and I'll get dinner," Danny says. 

"Okay." She looks at him, smiles. "Danny... thank you."

It shouldn't sound like he's been doing her a favor, and it shouldn't feel like that either, but it does, and something twists in his chest. "Rachel..."

Her smile turns sad.

Danny shakes his head, can't find words to fix or change this, and heads back downstairs.

\--

They eat dinner silently at the kitchen table, interspersed with some half-hearted attempts at conversation. 

"The doctor said it was nothing to worry about?"

"Yeah." Danny swallows. "Just that we needed to keep an eye on her fever, you know, the usual."

"Yes." Rachel nods, chews thoughtfully. 

Danny eats, listens to the sound of a car driving down the street. "So, how did your meeting go?"

"Which meeting?"

"You had more than one meeting? What is this, they pay you to talk?"

"Danny--"

He holds up a hand. "Sorry. The big one, with the guy."

"Stan Edwards. He's the new VP. It was good."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Rachel smiles slightly. "It was just a business meeting. Quite boring, actually."

"Boring for me, you mean?"

"Daniel--"

"Okay." He puts down his fork and runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, I don't know what is with me tonight."

"It's been a long day."

"Yeah." Danny sighs. "I'm gonna go check on Gracie."

Rachel doesn't say anything as he leaves the room.

\--

He starts awake when the bedroom door opens, and flails around in the dark till he finds the light switch. Grace is standing in the doorway, one hand clutching her blanket to her chest, the rest of it trailing behind her. 

"Hey, monkey, what are you doing out of bed?"

Rachel stirs next to him, blinking her eyes open. "Grace," she says, holding out a hand. "What's the matter?"

Grace shuffles over. "I couldn't sleep."

Danny and Rachel exchange a look. "Why's that?"

"There were shadow monsters on the wall," Grace says earnestly. 

Rachel sits up, running a hand through her hair. She looks at Danny again, and he shrugs. Making her go back to her own bed is something they would usually do, but now that she's sick he's inclined towards lenience. 

"Come on, then, monkey." He reaches across Rachel and lifts Grace up onto the bed, in between the two of them. "No shadow monsters here. And if they dare to come in, I will fight them."

Grace blinks up at him with her big eyes. "Will you, daddy?"

"Yeah. They won't dare to come in here again."

Behind Grace, he sees Rachel stifling her laughter, and glares at her. It makes her smile wider. 

"You're the best, Danno."

 _Oh, man_. In an instance, he forgives her all the moody swings of temper ever, past, present and future. "The best, huh? That's really nice of you to say, babe."

Gracie tucks herself against him, and he wraps an arm around her, lets her curl into his chest. He looks over her head at Rachel, at the affection and love shining in her eyes. She turns onto her side, running her hand over Grace's hair. "Try and sleep, sweetheart."

\--

It's two weeks later when the phone rings, in the middle of Danny's drive to work, just after he dropped Grace off at school. 

"Hello." He switches lanes and honks at the driver who tries to cut him off. "Jackass," he mutters under his breath, and then realizes there's silence on the other end. "Hello?"

"It's Steve," Steve says. 

The hair on the back of Danny's neck stands up. Steve's voice is raw and low, and Danny's fingers twitch on the steering wheel. "What's wrong, babe?"

"I'm at the airport," Steve says. "I'm staring at a screen that says there's a plane to Newark leaving in an hour. I get on that plane, I'll be in Newark in six hours."

Danny blinks, tries to process what Steve just said. "Okay."

"Tell me if I should get on that plane, Danny."

"Steve," he says, suddenly not caring about the driver from before cutting him off a second time. "Steve, what's wrong, babe?"

"Tell me, Danny."

He thinks of all the ways that spending the day with Steve is impossible; he has to work, he needs to pick Grace up later, it is a crazy idea. "How long will you be here for?" He's stalling, he knows it. 

"I've just got today."

 _Shit_. He can tell something is awfully, terribly wrong on Steve's end. 

"Danny."

"Yeah."

" _Please_."

 _Oh, jesus_. His heart shatters, and he takes a shaky breath. "Get on the plane. Get on that plane, Steve, and I'll meet you on the other end."

The line goes dead.

\--

He thinks on his feet, makes the first call from the car. "I need a favor."

"Anything, big bro."

"Are you home?"

"No," Matt replies, "on my way into work. You need me to turn around?"

"No." Danny takes a deep breath. "Can I use your place while you're out?"

"Yeah, of course. Something wrong with yours?"

"No, no. I just need some place quiet, and I'm going to be in your neighborhood." He sends up a quick prayer of forgiveness at the way he casually lies to his brother. He never lies to his brother. 

"Mi casa es su casa," Matt says. "You got a key, right?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Matty."

"No sweat, bro."

He ends the call and makes the next one to his parents, arranging for them to pick up Grace, and leaves a message on Rachel's voicemail about it. 

He slams his hand against the steering wheel. "You are a class A jerk," he says out loud. He's the lowest of the low, sitting here and lying to everybody, but the memory of Steve's voice sits uneasily in his chest, and he can't stop himself from doing this, can't stop himself from needing to do this. 

\--

"I need to duck out this afternoon."

Trent looks up from his paperwork. Danny meets his eyes and doesn't look away. "Okay," Trent says slowly. 

"I'll owe you one," Danny replies. "I'll do you paperwork for a week if you want me to."

"Yeah? This about Rachel?"

Danny shrugs. He doesn't want to lie any more if he can help it. 

"Okay, man, no problem."

"Thanks."

"I'm keeping you to it," Trent says with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I know you will." Danny falls into his chair. "What's new?"

\--

Steve's face is taut as he comes through the gate, set in that mask Danny hates. He gives Danny a quick nod but keeps his distance, and Danny brushes fingers against Steve's arm as he directs him toward the car. 

He can feel the minute shiver that runs through Steve, stays close but not too close as they make their way to the parking lot. Once they're inside the car, Danny glances over. 

Steve stares resolutely out the window. 

He's holding himself together by sheer willpower. Danny remembers this look on Steve, flashes back to when they first met and the fury that Steve had used as a shield. He starts the car without saying another word, simply pulls out of the lot and onto the freeway. 

Steve doesn't move, and Danny gives him a few minutes before saying, "I'm glad you called, babe."

Steve turns his head abruptly, staring at Danny. Whatever he was expecting, and it was most likely an interrogation of some sort, this wasn't it. 

Danny tries a smile. "I'm glad you called _me_ ," he elaborates. 

"Oh."

His voice is dry, unused, low with that undercurrent of emotion that is continuing to break Danny's heart. He wants to reach out and touch, wants to wrap Steve up, wants to yell at him until he snaps and lets go, but he does none of those things. "Steve," he says softly, and when Steve meets his eyes, Danny can see the fear in them. "I won't ask," Danny promises, and the tightness around Steve's eyes eases a fraction. "But I will listen."

"Okay."

"Good." 

Danny signals for the off ramp and takes them into Matt's neighborhood. When he parks up and gets out of the car, Steve follows, only speaking when Danny unlocks the door. "This your house?"

"What am I, a schmuck? No."

"Sorry."

Danny shrugs. "It's okay." He pushes the door shut behind them. "You want a drink?"

"Danny."

Steve's voice makes him turn around, and Steve stands there by the door, not moving. Danny reaches out, touches his fingers to Steve's and slides his hand up Steve's arm. "Hey..." He can see Steve begin to crumble, can see the way the hours and whatever is haunting him suddenly take their toll, and Danny reels him in. "Come here, babe. Come on."

Steve takes a shuddering breath and comes into Danny's embrace. "Danny."

"Yeah, I got you." He ignores the way Steve is holding him just a little too tight, feels the way Steve's heart is pounding in his chest. He slides his hand down Steve's back and just holds on. 

He can tell the moment Steve shifts, the moment that Steve changes tactics, pulling back enough to seek out Danny's mouth, and _okay_ , he gets what Steve's doing here. He meets him halfway in the kiss, lets Steve walk him back until they hit the wall, gives as good as he gets. 

Steve ducks his head and kisses along Danny's jaw. "Missed you, Danny, missed you," he murmurs against Danny's skin, "so much."

"Yeah," Danny whispers back, "me, too, babe."

Steve's hands are unbuttoning his shirt and tugging on his tie, almost absently, as Steve murmurs his name against his skin. "Danny... need you, baby."

"You've got me," Danny tells him, rubbing one hand up and down Steve's back, "hey, hey, look at me." He forces Steve's chin up, watches the way Steve's eyes skitter away a few times before finally facing him. "I'm here, I'm right here, whatever you need, yeah?"

"Yeah." Steve blows out a slow breath. "God, Danny." He lets his head fall forward onto Danny's shoulder, and Danny runs fingers through his hair, listening to the soft, muffled sounds Steve makes at the contact. "Don't stop," Steve murmurs. 

"Not stopping," Danny promises. He knows Steve is lonely, has been lonely for a long time, and probably doesn't even realize it. His heart is breaking at the longing he can hear in Steve's voice, can feel in the way Steve tilts his head into the touch. 

Steve presses his lips against Danny's neck again, follows it up with a swipe of his tongue. "Danny, let me fuck you, please?"

Steve is bleeding need all over the place, hiding himself to be able to voice it, and Danny's heart is shattered into a million pieces again. He spares a quick, sobering glance at the ceiling; he's in his brother's house, cheating on his wife, and he should feel so much worse than he does, but he can't, not with Steve in his arms, fighting not to fall apart. "Hey." Danny pushes him back just a little, keeps his hand in Steve's hair, fingers rubbing absent patterns as the strands slide through his fingers. 

Steve peers at him, distrustfully, steeling himself, and _no, just no_ , there's so much wrong with that. 

"Come on," Danny says, taking Steve's hand, pulling him along and up the stairs. Steve follows slowly, trailing behind him, and Danny is hit with a vision of what they'd be like if it were just the two of them, no Rachel, no Navy. 

It hurts in too many brilliant ways, and he shoves it down before he can dare think it again. 

He pushes open the bedroom door and has a moment to be grateful that Matt is a neat freak; the bed is made and there's nothing embarrassing lying around. 

When he turns back to Steve he's hit with how tired Steve looks, dark circles under his eyes, his face pale with exhaustion. "Babe," he says softly, touching Steve's cheek with one hand, rubbing a thumb over the stubble there, "what did they put you through, huh?"

Steve looks away, swallows hard, and Danny leans in, kisses him gently. Steve pulls back, steps away, runs a hand over his face as he turns sideways. Danny puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, watching as Steve fights to get himself under control. 

When he turns back, his eyes are red. "I'm fine, Danny."

"I know you are," Danny says softly, and Steve looks at him for a long time, as if evaluating what he sees in front of him. Danny waits him out, lets him. 

Steve reaches out and brings his hands to Danny's tie, sliding one end out of the knot. Danny lets him take it off, slides a hand to Steve's hip and pushes up his t-shirt, touching warm, gorgeous skin. Steve shivers a little and Danny tugs him closer, kisses him again, letting Steve deepen it. 

When Steve presses against him, Danny can feel him half hard against his hip, and it spurs on his own desire, makes him push up the t-shirt with one hand, sliding the other one down into Steve's waistband. He _wants_ , with a sudden wave of lust, doesn't want to wait any longer. 

Steve is pushing his shirt off his shoulders and Danny steps back, stripping it off quickly, starting on his pants at the same time. Steve raises an eyebrow at him but follows suit when Danny shoots him a quick grin. When he's naked, he pulls back the covers and slides in. 

Steve strips off the last of his clothes and stands there, looking comically undecided until Danny locks eyes with him and touches himself, and he can see the flash of desire that lights up Steve's gaze. 

"Are you just gonna watch, babe?" Steve twitches, making Danny laugh. "You could, you know."

Steve growls at him, climbs into bed and over Danny, hands on Danny's shoulders and body weight keeping him pinned in place. 

Danny rolls his hips, watches Steve's eyes widen and he grins. "You are so easy."

"I'll give you easy."

"Idle threats."

Steve kisses him, hard, tongue in Danny's mouth and Danny uses the distraction to roll them, tangling them up hopelessly in the blankets, and Steve laughs against his mouth as Danny makes a frustrated sound. He twists himself free and kicks the covers to the end of the bed, and Steve's eyes darken as he looks his fill. 

Danny's missed him, missed this, missed the way Steve can treat this with wonder, the careful way his hands are hovering and then sliding over Danny's skin. There's so much there, so much Steve gives of himself and Danny wants it, wants all of it, wants to give himself up to it. 

"How do you want me?" he says, and he watches, until _there, right there_ , he catches the measure of surprise that hits Steve's face and he smoothes over quickly. Like he can't believe Danny is willing and wanting this. 

Steve's hand twitches in the air. "I need--"

"Yeah. My trousers, left hand pocket."

Steve pulls away and stretches out across the bed to grab hold of Danny's pants. Danny groans at the delectable sight of the long length of him, the swirls of ink on his skin, and he reaches out to pull Steve back, sinking his teeth into Steve's bicep. 

Steve struggles against him in surprise and Danny lets go, and for a moment they stare at each other. "I could..." Danny flails for words. "God, the things I want to do to you, with you, Steve..." His mouth is dry. 

"Yeah." Steve's voice is rough and Danny has to kiss him, quickly. "Danny, I--"

"I know, I know." Danny gestures away all the things that have to go unsaid between them, slides a hand up Steve's back to trace his thumb over that tattoo. "When did you get this, anyway?"

Steve glances down. "The night I became a SEAL."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's nearly two years of training, so once I passed I wanted to commemorate."

"I'm glad you did, babe." Danny follows the complex swirls with the pad of his finger, tracing the colors and lines. 

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Why are you fond of it, huh?"

"You have no idea, do you?"

"What?"

"Jesus." Danny has six feet of muscled, tattooed, toned Steve lying half across his lap, and he chooses this moment to be dense about it. "You're not exactly unfit."

Steve's puzzled frown is almost hilarious. 

"Fuck it," Danny declares. "You're sexy as hell and half the time just looking at you makes my dick hard in my pants. Jesus, Steve, why are you in bed with me?"

Steve blinks, then shrugs. "Well." He gestures at Danny as if that's an answer. "You're not exactly bad looking yourself."

"Oh my god." Danny stares at the ceiling as if there's help to be found there. 

Steve pushes himself up to his elbows. "Look, I'm sorry, man, it's not like I know--" 

"Whoa, whoa, hey." Danny squeezes his shoulder. "I'm not mad at you."

"Yeah." Steve blows out a breath. "Okay."

"You may just be the most complicated person I've ever met," Danny decides. "But you were going to fuck me and quite frankly, babe, I feel a little bit like you're leaving me hanging here."

Steve frowns, then grins. "I can remedy that."

"Yeah? You better be good."

"Oh, I'm good."

"Jesus, cocky much?"

Steve stretches out again, snagging hold of Danny's trousers and finding the required items. He looks over his shoulder. "Oh, yeah." Danny slides his hand back down and palms Steve's ass, feels with a satisfied grin how Steve bucks. Steve shifts back to him, dropping the stuff on the bed, and looms over Danny. 

"How do you want this?" Danny asks again, idly running his hand over Steve's hip, dipping between his legs to feel his hard length.

Steve groans and squeezes his eyes shut, breathing hard. He looks back at Danny with a half glare. "Can you turn over?"

"Yeah. Scoot up, babe."

Steve pulls back enough to allow Danny to turn onto his stomach, and he leans his head on his arms. The anticipation is building in his stomach, making him shiver, and when Steve puts a hand on his back he jerks in surprise. "Sorry."

Steve is silent for a moment, then leans in and presses his mouth to Danny's back, kissing up his right side. "The last time," he says in a low voice, "that I saw you..."

It hits Danny then, the last time they did this he was still battered and bruised, and he realizes that Steve carried that memory with him. "All better now."

"Yeah." Steve puts a hand on his ass, fingers splayed across Danny's skin, thumb brushing over his entrance. Danny can't hold back the groan, bites his lip at the way his dick twitches at the touch. 

"Steve." His voice nearly gives out. 

"Ssh." Steve's mouth presses against his skin again. "I've got you, Danny."

For a moment, he wants to forget about everything, about why Steve is here, and just let himself fall into Steve's hands. It's an exhilarating thought and he shivers. He shifts, pulling one leg up, and hears the sounds of Steve uncapping the bottle of lube. 

Blunt fingers press into his ass, and Danny squeezes his eyes shut, forces himself to relax. It gets easier, it always gets easier, he's done this often enough to know that. He fights the natural instinct to shy away from the contact, distantly hears Steve's voice over his shoulder. "Easy, hey."

"Yeah." Danny pants for breath. "Give me a moment."

Steve's fingers still, and Danny half twists, trying to look at him. Steve's face is a mask of concern, beautiful and way more fragile than he has any right to be, and Danny's heart breaks for a whole different reason. 

Steve looks back at him, holding his eyes. "You okay, Danny? We don't have to--"

"I'm okay, relax. Come on, move."

Steve nods, stretching him with a careful hand. Danny closes his eyes to let it sweep him away, focusing on the physical sensation to drown out what he's feeling inside. The touch of Steve's fingers goes from uncomfortable to good, and he nods, reaches back with a hand to flap a gesture at Steve. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Danny confirms, and rests his head on his arms again, listening to the sound of foil tearing, to Steve's hand on his hip, and then the all overwhelming feeling of Steve pressing inside. 

"Danny..."

"I'm good, babe."

He can feel Steve lean over him awkwardly, mouthing a kiss to the back of Danny's neck, and Danny has an overwhelming urge to see his face, twists back to catch a glimpse. Steve kisses his mouth, pulls away only to move, and then Danny loses himself to sensation again, narrowing his world to Steve and the bed they're in and nothing else, no room for worry and fear and too much emotion. 

Steve says his name, low voiced and with a touch of awe, and it makes Danny smile. "Move, Steven."

Steve does, fucks into him hard enough to make Danny see stars and gasp for breath. He reaches down to touch himself, feels Steve's fingers curl over his own. "Let me," Steve says, and Danny nods, pulling his hand out from under Steve's and pushing up on his arms. Steve plasters himself against his back, presses his mouth to a spot behind Danny's ear. 

Danny tilts his head to give him better access, feels the liquid slide of Steve inside him, against him, their skin plastered together and Danny doesn't ever want to give this up. 

"Danny," Steve murmurs, "Danny, jesus, man."

Danny opens his mouth to respond, but he can't form words. Steve's hand strokes slowly up and down his cock, in counterpoint to his dick fucking Danny's ass, and Danny finally gives in, lets the sensations tear him apart. 

He comes hard over Steve's hand, Steve wringing the last of his orgasm out of him, and it's as if Steve was waiting for it; he stops holding back and speeds up, face buried against the back of Danny's head as he comes.

They're both breathing hard, and Danny watches as Steve wipes his hand on the sheets before pulling out and disposing of the condom. Danny untwists himself and stretches out, rolling onto his back with only the slightest wince. 

Steve lies on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching him. 

Danny quirks an eyebrow at him in invitation, and Steve shifts closer until he can nose at Danny's hair. He wraps one arm across Danny's chest and presses a leg against Danny's. 

"Wait." Danny uses his feet to trap the covers and pull them back up until he can reach them with his hand, tugging them over them. "Okay."

Steve grins, presses a kiss against Danny's ear, and closes his eyes.

\--

Danny dozes for a while, then opens his eyes to find Steve still sharing his pillow, sound asleep. He's more relaxed now, sleeping less like he's on constant guard, and it makes something twist in Danny's chest. 

This is going to go wrong; it's so fucked up and Danny knows it, knows he's borrowing time against the future, but looking at Steve right now, he can't stop. He can't forget the pain in Steve's voice and the trust that Steve gives him, and even if he could, he can't forget the feeling of putting himself in Steve's hands. 

Steve shifts, makes a confused sound, and Danny presses a kiss against his forehead. "Ssh, go back to sleep."

"Danny?"

"Yeah."

"'kay." Steve curls around him again, tucks his nose back into Danny's hair, and drifts off to sleep. 

Danny stares at the ceiling, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. 

\--

He gets up around five, puts on pants and pads down to the kitchen to make coffee. He considers the benefits of food but decides to wait, drinking his coffee slowly until he hears sounds upstairs, and then Steve comes down and into the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers and unbuttoned shirt. 

Danny swallows hard against the wave of desire at the sight of him. 

He reaches out as Steve passes him to get to the coffee pot, grabs a hold of Steve's hip and presses an open mouthed kiss against Steve's abdomen. 

Steve freezes in place, makes a sound above him, and Danny pulls back to look at him. The circles under Steve's eyes are less pronounced now. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. When did you get up?"

"Not too long ago."

He can tell by Steve's confused frown that Steve thought he would have noticed Danny leaving the bed, and it's sort of adorable. Danny leans in and mouths another kiss to Steve's skin, feeling his stomach muscles twitch under Danny's touch. He follows it up with a lick, and Steve groans, hand coming up to Danny's hair. 

Danny leans back again. "You want some coffee?"

Steve falls into a chair with a heavy sigh, his eyes wide. "Yeah."

Danny grins and gets up to grab a mug, pouring it full. "Here."

"Thanks." Steve takes a gulp. 

"When's your flight back?"

Steve looks at his watch. "Not for another four hours."

Something warm and happy twists in Danny's chest. They look at each other for a moment, and they don't need words. Steve finally breaks the silence.

"I--" He puts the mug down, rubs a hand over his face. "Fuck, Danny, sometimes I hate my job."

Danny comes over and leans against the table. "You want to talk about it?"

"No." Steve shakes his head and glances up. "I can't talk about it even if I would want to."

"Keeping everything inside is going to eat you up alive, Steve."

"I know." He touches fingers to his lips. "I lost hostages."

 _Oh, fuck_. "Babe..."

"There are these guys, these two brothers, we've been trying to get to them for ages. I was so close." Steve stares at the floor between his bare feet. "Civilians got in the way, and I tried, Danny, I tried. I really did."

Danny nods. 

Steve looks up again. "It's my fault that they're dead."

Danny holds his eyes. "You didn't pull the trigger."

"I might as well have."

"No. No, you see, you can't absolve these guys from their choice of pulling the trigger. They had that choice, Steve, they could choose not to be assholes. They didn't."

Steve hangs his head and Danny isn't sure he got through to him, but it's the best he can do. Steve looks up, leans back. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

Steve shrugs. 

"You want some food? Or maybe get a shower?"

Steve thinks for a second. "Shower first, then food?"

"Sure." Danny pushes off from the table and Steve puts his mug down, getting up to follow him back upstairs. When they get to the landing, Steve's arm comes around his waist and he pulls Danny back, biting down gently on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck. 

Danny's breath catches; he puts his hand over Steve's.

"Danny." Steve's voice is raw. "Danny, god, I want you so much."

"Hey, hey, hey." Danny turns in the circle of his arm, and sees the unguarded, exposed look in Steve's eyes. "I'm right here."

Steve kisses him, pushes him back until Danny's up against the wall; _what is with his fondness for that move_ , and Danny holds him close, lets him get it out of his system. Steve breaks the kiss and pants against Danny's skin.

"Come on, let's continue this in the shower, huh?"

Steve nods, and Danny peels them both off the wall, tugging him along to the bathroom, digging up towels and shower gel. Steve strips off his clothes with efficiency and frowns as he studies the shower, then fiddles with the knobs and gets it to the right temperature before stepping under. 

Danny watches him do it all with glee and only follows when Steve ducks his head back out and says, "Come on, Danny, we haven't got all day."

The shower is comfortable and warm, and Steve is wet and naked and Danny can't help but respond to that. He leans in to kiss Steve, water running over them and Steve makes a sound against his lips, nearly lost in the noise of the spray pounding down on them. Danny pulls back, watches the way Steve's lashes cling together, and the words slip out of his mouth. "God, you're so beautiful."

Steve stares, mouth open a little, and he tries to form words, but has to clear his throat before any sound comes out. "Danny," he says helplessly, and Danny pulls him in, wraps him up and holds him close. 

"It's okay, babe. It's okay."

He can feel Steve shaking against him. "Danny, I never wanted--"

The water is still pouring down on them and Danny doesn't let go, even when it starts feeling like he's the only thing holding Steve up. 

Steve's voice is strangled when he speaks again. "I don't know how, Danny, I can't be, you have to understand, I--"

"Ssh." Danny brushes Steve's hair off his forehead. "I get it, I understand, don't worry. Ssh."

"I can't be gay," Steve whispers, and his words are nearly lost among the water, and Danny's heart breaks clean in two at the wrecked expression on Steve's face.

\--

When they're dried off and dressed, Steve gets that distant look that makes Danny leave him alone, so he goes to the kitchen and hunts for some food, digging up bread and eggs and deciding they will do for dinner. 

Steve wanders back in when he's in the middle of scrambling the eggs and Danny glances carefully at him. "Hey."

"Hey." Steve peers over his shoulder into the pan. 

"You hungry?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Danny leans back a little, feeling Steve settle a hand low on his back. He smiles to himself. 

Steve steps back, leaning against the kitchen table. "Danny, I..."

Danny turns the heat down under the pan and turns around. "Hey. You don't have to explain yourself to me or to anyone, okay?"

Steve is silent for a few beats. "Okay." He breathes out a sigh. "Thank you."

Danny goes over, gives him a quick kiss, and says, "You want to talk about it at some point, I'm here and I'll listen. But don't talk for my sake."

"Yeah." Steve grabs his collar and tugs him in for another kiss, teasing Danny's tongue, and Danny closes his eyes. He slides his hand up in Steve's hair and eases himself between Steve's legs, feeling Steve smile against his mouth. 

"What the fucking hell?"

Matt's voice shatters through everything; they both whirl away from each other and to the door, where Matt stands with his keys and briefcase still in hand. He's staring and Danny can't believe he didn't, _they_ didn't hear him come in. 

"Shit."

"No kidding, man, what the hell?"

Danny glances at Steve, who looks torn between being embarrassed and getting angry, and Danny gives him a tiny shake of the head. "Matt, listen, I'll explain."

"Yeah? How about now?"

Danny steps around the table and shoves Matt forcibly back into the hallway. "Okay, you're pissed, I get that you're pissed and you have every reason to be. But I will explain later."

"So, what, I'm supposed to step back outside and come back in an hour so you can finish whatever the fuck was going on there? Just who do you think I am?"

"Matt--"

"This is what you were telling me months ago, isn't it? You said it was over." Matt squints at him, and Danny knows Steve can hear every word of their argument in the kitchen. 

"Yeah, it was over, and then it wasn't." He rubs a hand over his face. "Give me five minutes, please, I beg of you."

Matt glares at him, but finally nods. "I'll be upstairs. When I come down, he is not in my kitchen anymore."

"Deal."

Matt turns without another word and heads up the stairs, and Danny goes back into the kitchen. Steve is leaning his hands on the table, looks up when Danny enters. "Who's he?"

The distrust in Steve's voice is understandable, but it makes Danny feel even more like a worm than he already does. He can see something else in Steve's face, suddenly realizes what this looks like. "No, Steve, he's not-- He's my brother."

And he doesn't miss the infinitesimal fraction that Steve relaxes at his words. "Okay."

"I..." Danny gestures helplessly at the door. "I can square this with him, but you need to go, I'm sorry."

Steve nods. "I guessed as much." 

He pushes past Danny to the door, and Danny can't let him leave like this, grabs his arm and turns him around, pulling Steve in one last time. Steve returns the embrace silently. "Call me," Danny says. 

Steve nods curtly before slipping out the door. 

Danny thuds his head against the wood hard enough to make it sting, breathes in and out a few times, and heads to the kitchen. He turns off the stove and finally walks up the stairs, his heart heavy. 

Matt's standing in the doorway to the bedroom. "In my bed, Danny?"

"I was going to change the sheets," Danny says, and yeah, he knows how it sounds. "Shit, Matty, I'm sorry, man."

"Is that what you say to Rachel, too? You sleep with this guy in your bed?"

"No." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I know there's no excuse, I don't know how this happened, I just... I need time to figure this out."

"When you asked to borrow my place I presumed you needed somewhere for work, a place to shower and change your clothes, whatever. Not this, bro, not this."

"I know." Danny shakes his head, but what he can't shake is the way he feels like less than a piece of used gum. 

"What the hell happened?"

Danny sighs, looking at the rumpled sheets behind Matt, remembering the way it felt to have Steve sleeping in his arms, Steve's mouth against his skin. He blinks the image away. "Look, can we do this downstairs?"

"Yeah." Matt pushes past him and heads back down, into the kitchen, pulling out two bottles of beer, and leads the way to the living room, where he hands one to Danny. He falls down onto the sofa and looks at Danny measuringly. "All right, explain."

Danny runs a hand over his hair, sits down on the armrest and faces his brother. "I meant it when I said it was over. It was a one night, well, two night thing, it meant nothing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It was stupid, I was kind of drunk, things were bad with Rachel and I did a stupid, stupid thing. Only we ran into each other again months later, and yeah, I'm a jerk, I'm a total ass, I know."

Matt grimaces. "Not arguing with you there, bro."

Danny bites back a sarcastic remark. He deserves everything he gets. "I didn't want it to get this far, but Steve..."

"That's his name?"

"Yeah."

"'cause I gotta tell you, the last thing I expected was you in my kitchen with another guy."

"Matt, come on."

"What, you gonna call me names now?" Matt sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. "You don't get to play the moral high ground here, the big brother card, whatever. You're cheating on Rachel with a _guy_?"

"Does it fucking matter to you if it's a guy or not?" Danny can't help raising his voice. "You think my saying, 'gee, I think I might be into guys as well as girls' years ago was just an academic thing, huh? Because, let me tell you, I expected my brother not to be a homophobic jerk about this whole damn thing."

"What do you expect me to do?" Matt yells back. "Go, 'hey, man, great, you finally hooked up with a dude, too, how great for you'?"

Matt's words startle a laugh out of Danny. "You think I've never been with a guy before?"

He can tell his words hit home by the stunned look on Matt's face. 

"Yeah, surprise for you."

Matt narrows his eyes. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Fuck, Matt, I didn't plan any of this."

"You planned enough to call me to set this up. Don't fucking try to make it better, Danny."

Danny holds up a hand. "Okay, okay, I'm a cheating scumbag, I know."

They are silent for a moment, and Danny drinks his beer, finding some solace in the cool liquid sliding down his throat. "So who is this guy?"

"I can't tell you." At the look on Matt's face, Danny shakes his head. "I'm not just saying that, I can't tell you, Matt, I don't want to get him into trouble, okay?"

"Fair enough." Matt takes a sip of his bottle. "You love him?"

Danny sighs. "I don't know. Yeah, I think I do."

"You don't love Rachel anymore?"

"I love Rachel, of course I love Rachel." He doesn't even have to think about that one, knows as he says it that it's both true; he loves two people at once. The thought of Rachel makes his stomach cramp, the thought of losing Steve makes him feel the same. He knows what it makes him, sees it reflected in Matt's eyes. Matt's gaze turns more compassionate. 

"Shit, man."

"Yeah." Danny hangs his head, stares at his shoes. He can feel the day catch up with him, his resistance mellowed out by the alcohol making its way through his system. 

"Okay, look." Matt stands. "Why don't I go throw out that mess in the kitchen, and I'll make something that resembles dinner."

Danny looks up. "Yeah. Thanks."

Matt's hand lands briefly on his shoulder as he goes past him to the kitchen. 

\--

When they eat, they carefully avoid the topic, talking about the Jets instead, the weather, work, anything but Steve and Danny and Rachel. It isn't till the end that Danny's clearing away the plates and Matt says, "I won't tell Rachel."

Danny glances over his shoulder. 

"You're my brother, and I think you should, but I'm not that guy."

"I know you're not."

"Good."

Danny stacks the plates in the dishwasher. 

"You can't keep going like this."

"I know." Danny straightens and looks back at him. "I know, okay? I just need more time."

"Well, don't wait too long. Because if I see that guy again, I'm punching him in the face, you hear me?"

Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I hear you."

\--

It's almost surreal to have his life continue after that, for the next day to be the same routine of getting Grace ready for school and traffic jams and an overcrowded squad room. Trent is in a foul mood, bitching from the get go, and Danny is not doing much better, the events of the previous day still fresh in his memory.

"Look, Massaro, if you would just sit down and shut up for a second, I could maybe get some coffee in me and feel less like a Neanderthal."

"Suck it, Williams."

Danny stands and leans his fists on the desk. "You got something to say to me, huh? Say it."

Trent rises from his seat, slowly, and from the corners of his eyes Danny can see people coming closer, intent on intervening if they go too far. It makes his skin itch. "I said--"

"Williams!" Reynolds's voice booms through the squad room. "My office!"

Danny bristles, wants to ignore it, but his better sense prevails, and he steps back, follows the captain into the office. "What?"

Reynolds narrows his eyes. "I expect this sort of shit from Massaro from time to time, but you should know better. You got a beef with your partner, you settle it. We do not reduce ourselves to the scum that's out there."

"We weren't--"

"--yet." Reynolds holds up a hand, forestalls Danny's objection. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but I expect that you leave it outside."

Danny thinks briefly of Steve, of Matt, of Rachel. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "Yes, Captain."

"Good. Now get out of my office."

When he goes back into the bullpen, there's a mug of coffee sitting on his desk. Danny sits and looks over the rim of it at Trent. "You do this?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Danny nods. "Apology accepted."

Trent grins. "Likewise."

Danny makes a face, but lets it slide. 

\--

Danny can't stop himself checking his phone every so often; a habit he should really break, but after what happened the previous day he can't deny he wants to hear Steve's voice, and the radio silence makes him antsy. 

Distraction comes at lunch time, when Trent falls into his chair opposite Danny's and says, "Jake Jarvis walked."

"What?" Danny's attention is torn abruptly from the files he was working on. "You are kidding me."

"No." Trent sighs. "Look, I'm sorry, man, I know you wanted the weapons charges to stick."

Danny runs a hand through his hair. For the attack on him, only one of the perps got any punishment, and he knows in his heart that Jarvis was behind it. "What the hell happened?"

"The guns were found on his property, but it's publically accessible; they can't tie him to the weapons."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

Danny's phone rings at that precise moment, with the sort of cosmic timing that has Danny grinding his teeth. "Steve?"

"Who?" Rachel says. "It's me."

 _Jesus_. Danny breaths out a long breath, feels as disgusting as ever. "Sorry, honey."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Danny replies automatically. "What's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to check in. I barely saw you yesterday."

"Rachel..."

"Is this a bad time? I can ring back later."

Danny closes his eyes, forces the image of Steve he's been keeping behind his eyelids away, replaces it with a memory of Rachel. "No, yes, I mean..."

"Danny." She laughs softly. "It's okay if you can't talk right now."

He gets up, wanders away from the desk to the more private hallway. "No, honey, it's fine." He tells her about Jarvis; she should know, and her honest concern makes him feel better.

"Danny, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah." He leans an arm against the wall and stares at his feet. "Nothing to be done about it."

"Yes, but..."

"I know." They are both silent for a while. "Look," Danny finally says, "I've got to get back, I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Sure," Rachel replies, and Danny hangs up the phone before she can say anything more. 

\--

When he returns to the squad room, he can feel Reynolds's eyes on him and studiously ignores them as he sits back down. 

"You know," Trent says, pushing a fresh mug of coffee Danny's way, "I was thinking about the Vasquez murder..."

"Hmmm?" Danny absently takes a large gulp of coffee. "What of it?"

"Well, we can't tie the 49ers to it, but if we can find some other way of bringing that crew down, well..."

Danny's been thinking the same thing, or rather, he's been thinking that he'd like to put that crew away for a whole bunch of reasons. "Forget it. It's up to the gang unit to get them."

"They'd be willing to work with us. I put some feelers out."

Danny looks up, meets Trent's earnest eyes. "You are a good man, Massaro."

Trent shrugs. "We take care of our own."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Plus, I had a lot of time on my hands yesterday while my partner was off doing... where were you, anyway?"

It's a quick, flitting memory, but it hits Danny low in his gut, an image, the feel of Steve's skin under his hands, Steve falling apart in his arms. He swallows hard. "I had something to take care of."

"Oh, yeah?" Trent waggles a suggestive eyebrow. 

"Shut up," Danny shoots back. "You have a dirty, dirty mind, you hear me? Jesus." But his heart is hammering in his chest. 

\--

He has to dodge Steve's call the first time he tries because he's meeting with two guys from the gang task force, and when Steve calls again half an hour later, Danny walks out of the building before answering. 

"Hey."

"Hey."

There's silence on the line, long and stretching, and Danny listens for the minute sounds of Steve's breathing. He feels a low anxiety brimming in his stomach, coupled with a terrible sense of loss. _This is never going to go somewhere good_. 

"Danny..." Steve says, and his voice is soft. 

"Yeah." _Oh, jesus_ , he wants to be near this guy so much, wants to see Steve's face, wants to touch him and feel him and everything in between. He can't help the words as they roll out of him. "I miss you."

Steve clears his throat. "I..."

"I know, babe. Did you have a good flight back?"

"Yeah. How... how did things go with your brother?"

Danny ignores the feeling that provokes. "It's fine. We squared it, don't worry, Steve."

"Okay." 

They're silent again, and Danny wants to stay in that silence forever. As long as Steve is on the other end of a phone, there's at least a connection between them; once he hangs up, Danny loses him to the Navy again.

"Danny, I... I don't know when... when I can see you again."

"I know." He squeezes his eyes shut. "It's okay."

There's nothing more to say, all the things that lie on Danny's tongue now are things he can only say face to face. 

"I have to go," Steve says. 

"I know." Danny feels it in his heart, the tearing apart of tissue as he feels their connection sever. "Babe, just--"

"Hmm?"

"Stay safe out there."

"I will." The connection ends.


	6. Chapter 6

When he comes home, the first thing he does is pour himself a glass of Scotch, and Rachel watches him from the kitchen table as he does. From the living room, he can hear the jerky sounds of Grace's favorite cartoons, and he leans against the kitchen counter, feeling exhausted. 

"What's wrong?"

He shrugs. "Same thing as always."

"Jarvis?"

"Yeah. We can't get this guy, it's so--" He brings his palm down against the wood. "Fuck, Rach, I just want this guy locked up."

She gets up, walks over to him, pulls him close, and Danny puts his glass down on the counter, wraps his arms around her. He smells the soft scent of her hair and buries his nose in it, lets it drown out everything else. "I don't want to be this guy, Rachel."

"You're not," she says, lending him absolution without knowing what for. "It's okay, Danny, I understand."

"Do you?" He holds her at arms' length. "A month from now, you and Grace will be gone for weeks, what am I supposed to do then?"

She presses her lips together. "Don't guilt me into not going, Danny, I haven't been in years."

"I know, I know." He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear without thinking. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Danny, I... I understand, all right? You're going through something, I get that."

He buries his face in her hair, and Rachel tightens her embrace. 

\--

"...yeah, well, fuck you, too, Fiona!"

Danny manages to catch the end of his partner's conversation by returning to the car sooner than apparently expected, lunch in hand. He divides the food and drinks between the two of them and cocks an eyebrow at Trent. "Everything okay?"

"You don't want to know," Trent replies darkly. 

"Okay." Danny sips his coffee. "Any movement?"

"Jarvis's lieutenant arrived, Mason. Nothing else."

Danny nods, chews his lunch thoughtfully. "You think we're wasting our time here?"

Trent shrugs. "I think it's a long shot, but I want to get this guy as badly as you do, partner."

Danny nods. "Then we're staying a little bit longer."

\--

Stakeouts mean long hours, and time drags on, until May turns into June and the first signs of summer heat, and Danny watches July approach on the horizon with dread; the knowledge of going without Grace and Rachel for a long time sitting heavy under his skin. 

He lies awake in long, dark, too warm nights, stares at the ceiling and wonders if his marriage is salvageable, dreads the idea of Rachel coming home and deciding she doesn't want to be with him anymore, his stomach clenching at the thought. 

He thinks of Steve, too, of how they've not spoken since Steve called last, and there's a corner of worry chewing at Danny's heart, making him imagine scenarios in which he'd never hear from Steve again. 

Rachel sleeps, exhausted, her hours as long as his, and they're taxing his parents' patience by asking them to babysit all the time. Sometimes, Danny drops her off at Matt's instead, and it's hard to look his brother in the eye and Matt never asks, but they both know he's thinking it. 

He should tell Rachel, or he should end it. 

He ends up doing nothing. 

\--

"I don't want to! I want Danno!"

The screaming hits as soon as Grace has figured out what it means to go see her grandparents without her father, and then her small lungs manage to make the sounds echo off the kitchen walls. 

"Gracie," Danny starts, sitting down in the chair next to hers, "it's okay, monkey, come on."

"No," Grace wails, "no, I don't want to go, I don't, I don't!" She's shaking her head, refusing to look at either of them, and Danny looks over her head at Rachel, who has her hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide. 

They're leaving in two days. 

Danny sucks in a breath, stamps down on the part of him that is wailing just as hard as his daughter, tries to find the collected calm of fatherhood. "Gracie, hey." He puts a hand on her shoulder, but she tugs away. 

Danny stands and lifts her out of her seat, kicking and all, avoids her feet as he wraps her up in his embrace. "It's okay, monkey, it's okay. Sssh."

She turns into his shoulder and begins to sob, and he holds her, sees her tears reflected in Rachel's eyes. 

"Daniel," she says helplessly, and he nods, tries to feel as reassuring as he wants to appear. 

"I don't want to go, Danno," Grace hiccups into his shirt. 

"I know, baby." Danny strokes her hair. He carries her from the kitchen to the living room, sits down on the sofa with her. "But hey, you want to see Grandma and Grandpa, don't you?"

"Not without you."

"Well, that's understandable." Danny tucks her hair out of her eyes and pokes at her nose with his thumb. "I, of course, am unforgettable."

Grace scrunches up her little nose. 

"Unfortunately, my boss agrees with you."

Grace crosses her arms, peers out at him from under her bangs in a posture so much like her mother Danny's heart misses a beat. He glances at Rachel, who is hovering in the doorway. 

"You know," he says to his daughter, giving her his biggest smile, "your mommy misses her mommy and daddy a lot too. Because they live all the way over in England."

"That's stupid," Grace proclaims. 

"Well, they can't help where they're born, can they? You were born here, you can't help that."

Grace takes a few seconds to think this through. She nods. 

"So," Danny says with a gesture, "sometimes, we've got to go way over there. But I am so important, they won't let me leave." Grace's eyes widen, and from the corner of his gaze Danny can see Rachel stifle a laugh. "So I can't come with you. But that doesn't mean it won't be fun. It'll be double fun, because they only have you to spoil!"

"I don't want to be without you for so long, Danno." Grace's lower lip trembles a little. 

"I know." Danny hugs her, because he can. "I know, monkey, but it'll be an adventure, and you'll be having so much fun, and you can call me every day and tell me all about it."

How they'll afford the phone bill they'll have to figure out later. Rachel finally comes over, kneels by the couch. "I promise it will be great, sweetheart."

Grace peers at her. "You won't leave me, will you, mommy?"

Danny knows he looks as shocked as Rachel does. 

"Of course not, sweetheart! How could I ever leave you? Where did you get that idea?"

"Sometimes," Grace says, and Danny suddenly knows what's coming, feels his heart shatter, "you and daddy don't like each other much. And parents always go away when that happens."

Danny smothers her in kisses, because he has no answer to that. 

\--

"You have everything? Passports, tickets, luggage?"

Rachel nods. "Don't worry, Daniel."

He nods back, runs a hand over his hair. He has to keep busy so he doesn't feel it, the threatening emptiness in his chest and the way the house will echo once they're gone. "I'll get Grace ready."

"She's ready." Rachel puts a hand on his arm. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me, too." Danny leans in for the kiss, wraps his arms around her and holds her close. "Don't do anything crazy out there."

"Crazy? Why would I do something crazy?" She looks at him. "Oh, Danny. I promised you, I'll come back."

He nods again, takes a conscious step back. He turns to find Grace standing there, her backpack already on her shoulders. "Come here, monkey."

She comes into his arms, clings tightly. 

"You're going to have so much fun, babe. I promise."

"I don't want to go, Danno," she says in a small voice, and Danny leans back, smiles his widest, most reassuring smile at her. 

"I know you don't. But it'll be really great once you get going, okay? And your mom will be with you, so there's no need to be scared."

"Okay." Gracie nods solemnly. "Love you, Danno."

"Danno loves you," Danny echoes, and hugs her once more for good measure. He straightens up and looks at his wife. "Okay, let's go."

\--

When he comes home from the airport, the house is empty and cold, and he hovers by the kitchen counter for a bit, tries to think of something he should do, and fails. 

He drives into work to find Trent already there, pouring over the files on the 49ers. 

"Okay," Danny says, "I know I have a good reason to be here on my day off. You, on the other hand--"

"Yeah, yeah," Trent replies, tossing his pen onto the desk, "I didn't want to be at home, sue me."

Danny falls into his chair, takes the stack of files Trent hands him. "So, what are we doing?"

"I got to thinking," Trent says, makes a face when Danny quirks an eyebrow at him, "that we don't know enough about the 49ers' operations. So I pulled the crime stats for Bergen in an attempt to find what else they might be into that we can pin on them."

Danny scratches his chin. "Well, we know about the drugs. And the guns. Didn't those gang unit guys say they thought the guns might be how Jarvis is funding his crew?"

Trent nods, absently drinking some coffee. "Yeah, they did, but you know, he's got to be hemorrhaging money from that botched drug cut he did that killed Vasquez. And yet he doesn't look like he's hard up."

"You think he's got another source of income?"

"Yeah."

"That's... not at all stupid."

"Thanks, partner."

Danny flaps a hand at Trent's sarcasm. "We both know I'm the brains of this particular operation."

"I let you think that because of your fragile ego."

Danny laughs. It feels good to be here, to do something, not to have to sit at home and worry, stare at walls. "My ego, my friend, is in a very stable relationship with the rest of me."

"I've noticed," Trent replies drily. 

"Oy, I need coffee."

\--

It takes them hours, and more than one approving look from Reynolds, but they have a pretty good insight into the sort of crimes that are frequently occurring in Bergen of late. 

"So, let's recap," Danny says, leaning back. "We've got drugs, and a lot of it, we've got gun running--"

"We don't see much of that in the crime stats," Trent argues.

"No, but we know they're doing it." Danny looks at his notepad. "We've got a few sexual assaults that may or may not be linked to the crew, some home invasions that are probably junkies, and an impressive amount of robberies."

"Yeah."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Handy if Jarvis kept some of those guns for himself. Maybe supplied his crew and told them to go out and bring home some cash."

Danny taps his pen to paper. "This guy is smart. He doesn't go for high value targets, he avoids the big chain stores that have CCTV, he avoids banks and anything big that would get us to notice him..." 

Trent nods. "I'll call the Bergen precinct, see if they think there's a pattern to this thing. I didn't see anything in the bulletins, did you?"

Danny shakes his head. Something is niggling at him, somewhere in the back of his mind. "I've seen something recently," he says, "I can't remember what."

Trent looks at him, waiting him out. 

"Wait. Pull up Jarvis's rap sheet."

Trent digs through the files, pulls out the right folder and opens it. "What am I looking for?"

"Was there something about robberies in there?"

He watches as Trent runs his finger down the list of crimes Jarvis has been associated with or convicted for. "No. Guns, lots of them, but they could never make anything stick after the first time, drugs, but again, he keeps his hands clean. One accusation of sexual assault, two regular assaults, none made it to a courtroom."

"Huh." Danny thinks, goes back over the confusing last few months. "Do you have Warren's file in there?"

"No. He's in prison."

"I know he's in prison," Danny snaps, "I put him there."

"Okay, okay." Trent turns to his computer, accesses the right file. "Nothing about robbery here."

Danny gets up, rounds the desk to look over Trent's shoulder. "Go to the intelligence file on him."

Trent dutifully clicks the right tab and whistles under his breath. "He got off..."

"Failed prosecution for a liquor store robbery. I knew I'd seen it somewhere."

Trent cranes his head to look up at Danny. "You think..."

"I don't think," Danny replies, his fingers itching at the sight of Warren's picture on the screen. He balls them into fists. "I know. The robberies are how Jarvis is funding the drug business."

\--

He spends more hours than is healthy at the station, manages to always catch Rachel's or Grace's calls, taking them even when he's meeting with the gang unit, one of the Bergen officers, or even Captain Reynolds. 

The meetings are endless, make Danny feel like he's a glorified paper pusher with a gun, but the end result is that Reynolds fights to keep both him and Trent on the case since they broke it. He calls Danny into his office to tell him. 

"You know this means more overtime, don't you?"

"Yeah." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "To be honest, Captain, I can use the hours, and my wife's away, so... We'll make it work."

"Good. Massaro mentioned he was good for it, too, so I'm happy to have the two of you following this up."

Danny nods. "I appreciate the chance, sir."

"I know this one is personal for you."

Danny wishes he could sit on his hands under the scrutiny his boss gives him. "Yeah."

"It has to be a clean arrest, Williams."

"I know. I'm not going to risk it. I want this guy as badly as you do."

He receives a curt nod. "All right. Go get him."

\--

He's barely at his desk two minutes when his phone rings, and he picks it up as he goes to refill his coffee mug. "Williams."

"Hey."

Steve's voice is so unexpected Danny nearly drops the phone. He's been thinking of Steve, he's been thinking of Steve a lot, but he's almost stopped expecting to hear from him. Hoping, yes, especially with the long, lonely nights he's had, no matter how much he knows it's a bad, worse idea to do this with Rachel away. 

"Danny?"

"Yes. Yeah. Hi." He juggles the phone and his coffee mug, looks briefly over his shoulder, but it's late enough that the squad room is mostly empty. 

"Sorry I didn't call before."

"Yeah."

"Danny..."

"Let me guess, you can't tell me why or where you've been." He can't help the hard edge to his tone as he says it. 

"Danny, look, I--"

"Tell me at least that you're okay."

"You don't have to worry about me," Steve says, predictably, "I'm good."

It makes Danny bristle. "Are you lying to me right now?"

"No, I-- I don't lie to you, Danny."

The statement, the honesty with which it's delivered, makes him stop cold. "Okay, sorry."

"Yeah." For a moment, Steve doesn't say anything else. Then he adds, "The reason I called--"

"You need a reason?" Danny replies without thinking, trying to smooth over the hurt he feels at Steve's words. 

Steve waits a beat again, as if he's processing what Danny's said. "No. Yes. Well... the reason I called is that I'm being transferred."

The bottom drops out of Danny's stomach, he knows suddenly what this is, this is goodbye. This is Steve ending it before Danny could get the courage, the common sense to do it himself, when he should have ended it long ago. It makes him feel sick, the idea that he'll never see Steve again, that this is the last moment he'll get to talk to Steve. "Where are they sending you?" he asks, forcing his voice steady.

"Connecticut," Steve says. 

Danny blinks, hand frozen halfway to the sugar cubes, thinking he's heard it wrong. "Did you just say Connecticut? Like, east coast Connecticut, three hours' drive away Connecticut?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck me," Danny says on a breath. 

"Danny?"

"Yeah." He takes a cube of sugar and dumps it in his mug simply to have something to do. "When?"

"In three days. I, uh, I'll be spending at least six weeks there."

"Steve..." Danny has absolutely no idea what to say next. 

"I know you can't, I mean, I know you have your family, and I'm not--"

"Yeah, no, um..." Danny feels like dirt at the same time he says it, but he says it anyway. "They're out of the country."

It's Steve who sounds breathless now. "What?" 

"Yeah." Danny feels a little giddy, a little lightheaded with it all. He can't help the laugh that startles out of him. "Three days, huh?"

"Three days," Steve confirms. "I'll call you when I have a better idea of what my schedule looks like, okay?"

"Okay," Danny says, unable to stop the grin that's taking over his face. "I, uh, I look forward to it."

Steve laughs, a soft, gorgeous sound that Danny commits to memory. "I'll see you soon."

He severs the connection, but Danny can't stop grinning anyway.

\--

"So, uh..."

Trent raises both eyebrows at him. "What?"

"I need a favor," Danny says. "And I need you not to ask any questions."

Trent puts his pen down and looks at him. "Okay."

"Do you still watch that place in Brooklyn for your brother in law?"

"Yeah, the whole summer," Trent says with a slow nod. 

"Think I could borrow it?"

Trent frowns. "And you don't want me to ask questions? You dog, Williams."

"Shut up," Danny shoots back. "Come on."

"Yeah, you can borrow it. No skin off my back, if you promise to check on it once in a while, doing whatever it is I'm not supposed to know--" Trent waggles his eyebrows suggestively "--then it saves me the trouble."

Danny ignores how it makes him feel, accepts the keys and instructions from Trent without allowing himself to think about what he's doing, pockets them and ignores their weight the rest of the day.

\--

Danny paces one end of the Brooklyn apartment to the other, refusing to look at the clock, refusing to do anything except wait impatiently. He's got groceries stowed away in the kitchen, he's confidently stamped down on the worm in his gut that's telling him how wrong this is, and he's squashing the singing feeling in his chest that is pure longing. 

The doorbell rings, a shrill, short burst of it, and Danny hits the buzzer. He goes to the front door, listens to quick strides up two flights of stairs, and Steve stands on the landing, dressed in cargo pants, boots, and a t-shirt layered with a shirt. 

"Hey," Steve says, corner of his mouth quirking in a smile.

Danny steps aside to let him in. "Hey." He closes the door behind Steve, and then they stand in the small hallway, looking at each other. 

Steve looks like he always does, a little tired around the eyes but better than Danny last saw him, and he can feel the scrutiny of Steve's gaze as it slides over himself. Steve's voice is low as he speaks. "It's good to see you."

"Forget it," Danny says, and pulls him in, wraps his arms around Steve, pressing his face into Steve's neck. Steve returns the embrace, strong and tight, and Danny holds on, can't believe how much he's missed this. 

"Danny." Steve's voice is muffled, somewhere near Danny's ear, and Danny lets him go reluctantly, can feel Steve pull back, and the next moment Steve's lips are on his and the fire between them skyrockets. 

Danny groans into Steve's mouth, clutches at his shoulders, shamelessly holding him close. Steve's hands tug at his clothes, trying to get at skin and Danny is no better, one hand roaming over Steve's ass while the other tries to creep under those shirts he's wearing. 

His fingers are uselessly clumsy; he can't focus enough to do anything meaningful, and when he feels Steve pull down his zipper he's just fine with doing this standing up and _right now_ , because he feels like he might explode, and _jesus, this guy_. He manages to fumble with Steve's belt and drop Steve's pants down around his ankles, and he gets his hand on Steve's hard cock, and all other thoughts fly out of his head. There's nothing but the two of them, Steve's hand on him and his on Steve, and _fuck_ , Danny needs this. 

Steve breaks the kiss, looks down, and Danny makes the mistake of doing the same and comes almost right there at the sight, feels himself twitch in Steve's hand and this is so much, too much. "Steve," he pants, "oh, jesus." 

He looks up to meet Steve's eyes, and Steve is grinning, eyes glittering like he's got a dozen dirty plans, and the next thing Danny knows, Steve is pulling his hand away and taking them both in hand together, and Danny has to close his eyes, goes over into the abyss as he drops his head on Steve's shoulder. Steve follows only a few seconds later, breathing hard in Danny's hair. 

Danny is trying to catch his breath, make some sense of everything that's going through him, but he can't see past what's right in front of him. He clears his throat and lifts his head. "How, uh, how long have you got?"

Steve looks at him, his face doing something complicated. "I can stay the night. If I get up really early in the morning."

Danny's heart misses a beat, time stretching out in front of them, and _yes_ , he wants this. "Okay. Okay, that's good. I like that."

"Yeah?" Something akin to hope shows on Steve's face, and _oh_ , Danny forgot how much Steve can break his heart at times. 

"Yeah, babe. Yeah." He leans in to brush a quick kiss against Steve's mouth. "You want some food? I'll order in."

"Yeah." 

Steve looks down at his hand, and Danny smiles, takes his shoulder and aims him in the right direction. "Bathroom's that way, Steve."

Steve absently kicks off his trousers, and Danny watches him go, mouth dry, until Steve pointedly slams the bathroom door, and Danny laughs. 

\--

Danny orders pizza and they sit companionably on the couch, Steve flicking on the tv and settling on the news, watching it with the sort of interest Danny associates with an addict. He lets Steve be, keeps half an eye on the headlines himself, until Steve resurfaces when the weather report starts. 

"So, you don't stick around for the sports headlines, then?"

Steve looks at him in complete confusion. "What?"

Danny gestures at the screen. "Not a sports fan?"

"I watch sports," Steve replies defensively. 

"Yeah?" Danny looks at him. "What sports? Baseball? Football?"

Steve shrugs. "Football, mostly. Played when I was in high school."

Something twists in Danny's chest. "Let me guess," he says, sweeping a suggestive gaze over Steve, and watching as Steve twitches minutely. "Quarterback?"

"Got it in one." Steve returns the favor, and Danny feels his body temperature rise. "You?"

"I played baseball," Danny replies, smiling widely, "the only real sport out there, babe."

"Oh, yeah?" Steve quirks an eyebrow, and Danny's missed his expressive face. He wants to do something completely ridiculous, like lean in and kiss him all over, but he doesn't, sits on the impulse for now. "In baseball, all you do is run in circles."

"Ohhh," Danny says, "no way you just said that."

"Oh, yeah, man. Nothing to it."

"You run from one side of the field to the other," Danny reminds him, grinning. "And then when you see the other guy, you just crash into each other. There's no finesse in football."

"Oh, like there is in baseball?" It's good to see Steve come alive, to see a smile on his face, and Danny loves it, loves seeing him like this, loose and relaxed and just a little worked up, and it's good. 

"Yes. Baseball is a sport that requires thought, and tactics, and--"

"You think football doesn't have tactics? You are crazy."

"Who are you calling crazy?" Danny shoots back. "Did you just call me crazy?"

"Yeah, man." Steve leans back, looking like six feet of self-satisfied smugness. 

Danny wants him, badly, wants the bits of him that are right here on display and the bits he still has to discover, and it takes his breath away. He swallows, looks for a comeback and can't find one, his brain wiped of everything but how Steve is right in front of him. 

The satisfied smile slides off Steve's face. "Danny?"

"Yeah, no. Yeah." Danny flaps a hand at him. 

"You okay?"

"I'm good," Danny says, "I'm excellent, do not worry about me."

Steve quirks an eyebrow at that, then shrugs. "Okay, then."

"By the way," Danny manages, pulling his brain back on track, "I am not crazy. I have an excellent track record in my psych evaluations, okay, the therapists, they love me, I am just saying."

Steve throws his head back and laughs. 

\--

Steve lasts until about ten, aimlessly channel surfing, sticking around occasionally for the odd snatch of a documentary or ridiculous drama show somewhere, but never really staying with anything long. Then he starts shifting in his seat, awkwardly, carefully, as if he doesn't want Danny to notice, and Danny is not going to do this, not with him. 

"Okay, what's up with you?"

Steve tries to look innocent so hard that Danny narrows his eyes. 

"I wasn't born yesterday," Danny says, pointing a finger at him. "So spit it out."

Instead of saying anything, Steve kisses Danny and presses him back into the couch, making Danny lose his balance. Steve, because he is that sort of a guy, grabs hold of him and maneuvers him until Danny winds up flat on his back with Steve looming over him and Steve's tongue down his throat. 

_Okay_ , Danny does not object to this scenario, gives as good as he gets, tugs Steve's shirt out of his pants and splays his fingers over the warm skin of Steve's lower back. Steve makes a noise against him, presses down a bit more. Danny arches up and Steve makes a growling sound low in his throat, and Danny breaks the kiss long enough to say, "Oh, you want this, do you?"

"Shut up, Danny."

"Eloquent as ever," Danny commentaries, tangling one leg with Steve's and trapping him. Steve tests the hold automatically, and Danny gives, letting Steve free himself. "You wanna move this to where we'll both be comfortable?"

Steve nods, continues kissing Danny as if he'd never spoken. 

"Okay, I need you to-- hmmm--" Danny tears himself away "--move, Steven, come on."

Steve sort of rolls off him, collects himself off the floor, and waits until Danny stands up before kissing him again. 

Danny pushes him away. "I don't like kissing you when we're standing; you give me an ache in my neck. Move. Bedroom. You'll like it there."

Steve turns reluctantly, and Danny prods and pokes until Steve heads in the right direction. He can't stop touching Steve, finding points of contact everywhere, and Steve glances over his shoulder, his eyes dark and liquid. The only thing stopping Danny from kissing him right there is the promise of the bedroom just feet away from them, so he just prods Steve some more until they wind up in the right room. 

Steve turns and looks at him. "Danny..."

Danny meets those eyes, the lost look in them, and smiles. "What, babe?"

"I..." Steve trails off and ducks his head. 

Danny lets him have his moment, starts undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, and Steve looks up, eyes suddenly glued to Danny. "Oh," Danny says, mock casually, "you like this, huh?"

"Danny."

"That's my name."

Steve makes a face, but he can't maintain it, starts grinning instead. "You're bad."

"Yeah," Danny says with a shrug, "but if I don't talk, you aren't going to do it for me."

Steve shoves him back, they collide awkwardly with the closet, and the air is nearly knocked from Danny's lungs. "You," Steve growls, "you drive me crazy, you know that? I couldn't stop thinking about you, about this, couldn't focus for days, _jesus_."

Blood is rushing in Danny's ears, and he grabs Steve's shoulder, forces six feet of nervous energy to some semblance of stillness. "Okay, babe, okay. You've got me, hey."

Steve nods, but it's with a frantic edge, and Danny slides his hand up into Steve's hair in a tried and tested method to calm him down. Steve tilts into the touch, makes a soft, lost sound that threatens to break Danny's heart. 

"Hey," Danny says again, "you think about this so much, how about we put some thoughts in action, huh?"

Steve frowns at him distrustfully. "Is this where you want me to talk again?"

"I don't want you to do anything except what you want to do," Danny replies. "I kid a lot, but that never changes, babe."

Steve kisses him, slides a leg in between Danny's and pins him to the wall, and it brings Danny back to that very first time they did this. He slides his free arm around Steve's waist, pulls him impossibly close. Steve is not the only one who's been thinking about this, who's been missing this, and Danny wants, needs this as much as Steve does. 

Steve struggles free a bit, so Danny lets up, can feel Steve stripping off his shirt and Danny reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, wants to help, and he blinks open eyes he didn't realize he'd closed, and freezes. 

"Danny?"

"What," Danny says slowly, "is that?"

Steve follows his gaze, grin spreading across his face. "Do you want to find out?"

"Hello, yes, yes, I do, what happened here, huh?" He pokes at Steve's left sleeve, where a few swirls of green are peeking out. "This is new, I'd have remembered this."

"I got it last month," Steve says, stepping back and pulling the t-shirt over his head. Danny swallows drily at the sight of a tattoo that spreads up over Steve's upper left arm to his shoulder, matching his right arm in size, though not shape. It's swirls of green ink, and they move as Steve's muscles flex, and Danny swallows again, tries to speak, and fails. 

"Speechless? Really, Danny?"

Danny punches his upper arm, can't help the smile that's on his face, and then he pulls Steve in, hand on the back of his neck, kisses him until Steve goes still, groans into his mouth. They come apart, and Steve says softly, "Should have done this ages ago if this is how you get."

Danny laughs, and it's as shaky as he feels. "You," he says slowly, "need to get naked and into that bed, because I need to spend some quality time with that." He points at the ink on Steve's skin. 

"As long," Steve replies while already undoing his belt, "as you spend quality time with other parts of me."

"Oh, oh, that was _bad_."

"Shut up."

"Hell, no," Danny shoots back, getting rid of his own clothes. "No way, babe."

"Too much to ask." Steve shrugs, pulling the covers back on the bed. "Come here, Danny."

"Demanding," Danny says, "I like it." But he goes, follows Steve onto the bed, hisses at the contact high he gets from touching Steve's naked skin to his own, gets distracted by Steve's mouth on his for a while. Then he pulls away and ducks his head, mouths along the edges of green swirls, bites down carefully. 

Steve's hand lands in his hair, and he says, "Thought of you a bit when I was having it done."

 _Jesus_. Something hot and fiery shoots through Danny's gut at those words and he can't help the low sound that comes out of his mouth. He licks along the edges, where ink gives way to bare skin, wanders away to press a kiss to the soft skin of Steve's bicep, comes back around to the ink. He can feel Steve tug on his shoulder and follows instinctively, lets Steve rearrange them so they're lying down, and resumes his exploration.

"Danny..." Steve's voice is low, almost a rasp, and Danny lifts his head. Steve's eyes are wide, liquid, and his gaze is glued to Danny's face. "God, you have to... I need..."

Danny reaches out, turns Steve's face towards him and kisses him, soft and gentle. "What? Tell me."

Steve ducks his head, rubs his nose along Danny's stubble, and chokes out, "You need to touch me, Danny, I'm going out of my mind."

Danny fits himself behind Steve, runs a reassuring hand down Steve's side, over his hip, bites at the tattoo again. "Okay, babe, relax, I've got you." He curls his hand around Steve's cock, strokes a few times up and down, strains up enough to see Steve's face and the way his eyes fall shut. 

Steve pushes into the contact, his breath shallow, and Danny divides his attention between the artwork on Steve's shoulder and bringing him off, slowly. He can wait, drifting a little from the way Steve's body moves against him, but no urgency yet. There's something beautiful about watching Steve strain for release, about bringing him there. Danny could tease him, but he won't, can sense that Steve needs things to be uncomplicated. There is time for everything else later. 

Time, they have so much of it now and Danny wallows in it, licks a green tendril as it stretches across skin, hears Steve groan in response and feels him become more desperate in his movements. He adds a twist and a soft squeeze to his strokes, and Steve stutters, presses his face into the pillow as he comes wordlessly over Danny's hand. 

Danny strokes him through it, reaches past Steve for some tissues to clean his hand with, and tucks Steve against his chest. 

"Danny."

"Yeah, babe?"

"Thank you." Steve turns his head and Danny sees that for what it is, gives into the silent request and kisses him. 

"You're welcome," he replies, grinning. 

Steve nuzzles his jaw, eyelids half shut. He's on his way to sleep, Danny can tell, and mumbles against Danny's skin, "You can fuck me if you want."

Danny freezes in place, something about that invitation not sitting right with him. He knows Steve, knows him well enough, and he bites down on his irritation, pressing a kiss behind Steve's ear, and feeling him shiver in response. "Is okay, babe, don't worry."

"Danny..." Steve reaches back drowsily, "don't want to leave you hanging, man."

Danny mouths at his neck, licks stubble and tastes salt. "It's okay, hand me that lube."

Steve cracks open an eye and gropes for the bottle on the nightstand, passes it back. Danny slicks himself up, fits himself back against Steve and lets the friction of being trapped against Steve's skin as he moves do the work. 

Steve makes a low noise, drops his head to his chest. Danny rubs a thumb over Steve's nipple, feels the way Steve trembles at that. "This good for you, babe?"

Steve clamps a hand over his. "Can't even... you have to stop doing that..."

Danny pauses. "Stop what?"

"No, it's--" Steve makes a gesture. "Keep going, just not," he squeezes Danny's hand, "this."

"Too much?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay." Danny thrusts lazily against his skin, finds his rhythm again. 

"I can't even," Steve says, words nearly lost to the sound of his breathing, "can't even get hard, jesus."

Danny groans at that, bites down on the tattoo one more time as he comes, quietly. He spends a few seconds catching his breath before he fumbles for more tissues, haphazardly wipes at Steve's skin, and tucks himself against him. "Go to sleep."

"Okay," Steve replies obediently, and Danny is too far gone to wonder at that.

\--

Danny wakes to a really annoying beeping noise, and tries to wake up enough to turn it off. He flails a little in the dark, and something, someone, captures his hand as the noise shuts off. 

"Go back to sleep."

Danny cracks open one eye, sees the room is still shrouded in darkness, and nearly drifts off again, only to feel Steve carefully shifting out of his embrace. "Come back," he says, trying to tug Steve in again. 

"Can't." Steve pulls out of his grasp, slides out of bed if the feeling of cool air drafting in under the sheets is anything to go by. 

"Mwuh?" Danny says eloquently, finally opening both eyes and squinting. "What are you doing?"

"I have to get back to base," Steve says, looking around the room. Danny reaches out and switches on a light, groans when it pierces his skull, pries his eyes open to see Steve blink a few times. He locates his clothes and starts pulling them on. 

"The Navy is crazy," Danny says. 

Something slides across Steve's face, but he doesn't say anything.

"What time is it?"

"Four a.m."

"Fuck me." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "You need coffee? Food?"

"Danny." Steve stops midway through pulling on his shoes, sits down on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about it. I'll grab something on the road."

"Okay." Danny watches him tie his shoes, put on the shirt that so tragically hides those tattoos, and then Steve gets up. He stands there for a moment, as if unsure what to do, and Danny says, "Hey."

Steve turns.

"Come here."

The smile that quirks Steve's lips makes him feel warm inside, and Steve kneels on the bed, leans over to kiss him, and Danny runs his fingers into Steve's hair one more time. "When will I see you again?"

Steve frowns as he thinks. "I can be here Friday night."

"Yeah?" Danny grins. Only three days away, not at all bad. "I'll be here, babe."

"You better." Steve steals one more kiss, and Danny is reluctant to let him go, but does anyway. He watches as Steve leaves the room without looking back, listens for the slamming of the front door and the sound of Steve's footsteps receding down the stairs. 

He curls up around the pillow and closes his eyes again.

\--

He sleeps a few more hours, but gets up in time to be early, and Trent is already at his desk. 

"Now, see," Danny says, pointing a finger at him as he hangs his coat over the back of his chair, "I have an excuse to be early. You, on the other hand..."

Trent shrugs, and there's something in his face that suggests this was bad timing. 

Danny sits down and leans his elbows on the desk. "What's up, babe?"

"Nothing. Fiona. We had a fight."

"I know how that goes. Coffee?"

"Please." 

Trent hands his mug over and Danny gets them both caffeine. When he sits down again and has taken his first sip of the day, he says, "So, what's new?"

Trent slides a file across the desk. "Was waiting for you to get here, actually. Bergen beat officers handled a liquor store robbery last night; captain wants us to go and talk to the victims again."

Danny opens the file, stares at the crime scene reports, digs out the photos. "Oh, fuck." His good mood evaporates at the evidence of violence he can see in the pictures. "Jesus."

"The guy didn't want to open the safe," Trent supplies. 

Danny runs a hand over his hair, reaching back for his jacket. "My guess is we'll find this guy in hospital?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

\--

The day drags on slowly, by the end of it, Danny's hands are shaking from all the caffeine he's had, and he lays awake at night staring at the ceiling. The bed is cold and lonely, and he thinks of Rachel, thinks of Grace, of all the things he shouldn't be doing, and yet, he finds himself missing Steve. 

It makes his insides twist, the way he can miss all three of them, as if the answer just won't be found. He thinks about it, about leaving Rachel, about not waking up next to her every morning, and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He thinks about waking up next to Steve every morning, but it's a pipe dream; nothing with Steve will ever go there. 

Part of the attraction of an affair is the secrecy, but it's never been that with Steve, although Danny won't deny that exoticism has a lot to do with it. But there's something about Steve, that vulnerable, careful side, that makes Danny unable to turn away from him, makes him unable to break it off. He doesn't know where this summer is going to take him, but he knows he has to find answers, and find a way to decide, or his lies and deceit will spiral out of control. 

Insofar they are not out of control already. 

He sighs and closes his eyes. 

\--

"Well, you look like shit," is the first thing Trent says when Danny walks in Friday morning.

"Morning, Massaro."

"Sorry, dude."

Danny glares, falls heavily into his seat and stares blearily at his computer screen. "What's up?"

Trent shrugs. "Quiet night in Bergen."

"I suppose we'll count that as good news." Danny sighs. "All right, back to the surveillance, then, huh?"

"Yep." Trent's already picking up his coat, and Danny levers himself out of his seat. 

\--

They meet up with the gang unit who's sitting on Jarvis's gym, bring coffee and donuts as a peace offering. It's never easy to work on someone else's turf, and Danny doesn't mind greasing the wheels a little. 

"It's been all quiet here, Detective. Thanks." The gang unit officer takes a donut out of the box. "Either Jarvis is lying low, or he's planning something large and we're seeing the build up to it."

"Hmm." Danny looks at the surveillance cameras, but everything does indeed look quiet. "Nothing on the night shift either, huh?"

"No. If they are building up to something, they're either not doing it in a place we know of, or they're being real quiet about it."

Danny chews thoughtfully on his own donut. "I don't trust it."

"Even criminals have dry spells."

"Yeah. Not this guy."

As if he could hear Danny, the door to the gym opens and Jarvis walks out. There's a quick radio exchange with the surveillance crew on foot, and someone peels away and follows Jarvis down the street. 

"Well, that was the most interesting thing of the morning."

Danny looks over the logs, but no names jump out at him. "Okay. This was the same the night of the robbery, right?"

"What, Tuesday night? Yeah, it was. No major activity. Mason stopped by Wednesday morning, but he does that a lot."

Danny sighs. _Great_. 

"Honestly, Detective, I'm hoping we'll have a quiet weekend, too."

\--

They stop for lunch at a cafe in Bergen, and Danny washes his burger down with a cup of much needed coffee. "What if this is never going anywhere?"

"He'll fuck up," Trent replies confidently, "they always do."

"Yeah, well, what if they don't?" Danny toys with one of his few remaining French fries. 

"Come on, we know they're behind this."

"We don't." Danny gestures at Trent with the fry. "We think they are, because we think Jarvis won't tolerate another gang on his patch."

"He didn't with the drug business."

"No, but see, drugs and robberies are not the same thing." Danny drops the fry, wipes his hand on a paper napkin and runs it through his hair. 

"Hey." Trent peels off a few bills to cover the check and gets up. "Let's go back to the station and do the last of the paperwork, call it a day for now and start fresh Monday."

Danny breathes out slowly and gets up as well. Right now, starting his weekend early sounds good. He thinks about Steve, about the days ahead of them that they get to spend together, and finds a longing in his chest that makes him both uneasy and really, really happy. "Yeah, okay. Let's go."

They leave the cafe and walk around the corner back to the car, when Danny freezes in place, hand automatically on his gun. 

Jarvis is leaning against the car, smiling calmly, his oversized football jersey blowing lazily in the summer breeze. Next to him are two guys, tall, crew cuts, white, one of them sporting a baseball cap with a confederate flag on it. Danny can tell from the bulge in the left guy's pocket that he's carrying. 

Trent stops next to him, and Danny hears the sound of him unholstering his gun, doesn't take his eyes off Jarvis to check. 

"Detective!" Jarvis calls out. "Nice ride."

Danny walks forward, never taking his hand off his gun, and Trent is right behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny can see Trent's got his gun trained on Jarvis's back up. "Jarvis. What makes you think I won't arrest you right here?"

Jarvis takes a slow, exaggerated look around. "Arrest me for what? I'm just hanging out in my neighborhood."

"You're hanging out on my car," Danny replies. 

"Oh, that an arrestable offence, Officer?"

Danny is itching to rip off the guy's eyebrows and stuff them up his nose, but instead he forces himself to stay calm, to keep taking regular breaths. "It will be in about two seconds."

Jarvis pushes off from the car, takes exactly one step away from it. "Come on, boys," he says over his shoulder, "don't touch the nice man's car."

The two guys step away, too, positioning themselves behind their leader. Trent's gun twitches. "I think," Danny says slowly, "that we may need to do a stop and search here."

"Oh, yeah," Trent replies, picking up on what Danny means, "they look awfully suspicious loitering near our expensive car."

"Over to the side, boys." Danny gestures towards the building they're standing next to. "Hands on your head."

"Stop."

Danny turns back to Jarvis. "Oh, I'm sorry, you think you have a say in this? Because me, personally, I think they are packing, and I'll bet, just bet, that they have priors and that means a firearms possession sends them back to jail."

At least one of them twitches, and it makes Danny smile. 

Jarvis takes a step forward, and Danny gives in to the itching in his fingers, pulls out his gun and trains it on the guy. "You stay right where you are."

"You think I'm that stupid?"

"No, no, I don't think you're that stupid. I think your boys are that stupid, but not you." Danny keeps him firmly in his sights. "So we'll search them, find whatever they have stashed on them, and put them away. You, I'll get another day."

Jarvis smiles slowly, like a cat that's playing with its food, and it makes cold prickle down the back of Danny's neck, makes him want to look over his shoulder, and he forces himself not to give in to the impulse. "You know," Jarvis drawls slowly, "I was wondering what you are suddenly doing in my neighborhood."

Danny's finger slides along the outline of the trigger of his Beretta. 

"I mean, you don't normally work this area, do you, Detective? And myself, I am a community man, so when strange men start hanging out on my block, it's only right I find out who they are."

He feels frozen in the headlights of Jarvis's gaze for a moment, remembers what it felt like to take a knee to his chest so hard it collapsed his lung, remembers the pain in his hamstring, the taste of blood in his mouth. He blinks it away, curls his index finger around metal. 

"Why do you like hanging around here, Detective? It's almost like, I don't know, _someone_ makes you come back."

Danny is itching to jump this guy, itching to drop his gun and just smash him to a pulp. He can't, he has to stay where he is, and it's so tempting to pull the trigger, just a small action, a half second of decision, and Jarvis lies on the ground. 

He blinks when he realizes Trent is saying his name. Jarvis is still smiling at him, and Danny lowers his gun, slowly, starts to holster it, takes a step forward when a car pulls up at the end of the alleyway. 

He recognizes it, it's one of their surveillance units, picking up Jarvis's trail again. The moment is broken, and Danny steps back, exchanges a brief glance with Trent. 

"I will get you." Danny looks Jarvis straight in the eye. "I will arrest you, and it will be a collar that's above board, and you will go down. You will make a mistake, and I'm going to be on you all the time until you do. Every time you think about doing something stupid, you think about how I'm watching."

Jarvis laughs, softly, and Danny's skin prickles again, but he forces himself to ignore it, ignore the way sweat is breaking out on his skin. "I'm sure you will be watching, Detective. But no one has eyes in the back of their head."

Danny's hand is back on his gun, he's got it half out of its holster before Trent's hand is on his shoulder, squeezing down hard enough that Danny can't shake him off. Jarvis gestures to his back up and they turn, walking towards the end of the alleyway, confident swagger making Danny itch to shoot him, to watch the blood blossom on his back, to watch his brains explode as a nine millimeter bullet tears through his skull. 

When they're out of sight, he bends over and leans his elbows on his knees. Trent's hand lands on his back. "Hey, man."

"Don't." Danny pulls away, kicks the car tire, slams his palm down on the hood until his skin burns from it. "Fuck!"

\--

He ends up pacing one end of the apartment's kitchen to the other, only pausing to buzz Steve in, and then resumes his pacing. He hears Steve push open the front door and close it behind himself. 

"Danny?"

"Yeah, here." He can't stop moving from end of the room to the other, has to burn off the energy somehow. Steve appears in the doorway, and he's still in uniform, duffel bag in his hand. 

Danny looks at him, and Steve says, "I didn't have time to change."

"Okay." Danny runs a hand through his hair, tries to will himself to stillness. "Okay."

Steve frowns at him. "It's not a problem, is it?"

"What? No, no." He gestures at Steve. "No, it's fine, babe, and I'd appreciate the visual a lot."

"But?" Steve prompts. "What's up with you?"

"It's nothing." Danny resumes his pacing, stops and turns to Steve. "Would you put that bag down?"

"What?" Steve lifts the duffel and drops it on the table. "There, it's down. What's the matter with you?"

Danny stops at the window, takes a look outside. A quiet residential street, but he can't help looking left to right, wondering what else happens on quiet streets. He nearly starts when Steve puts a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, what is with you? Danny?"

He turns, glances at Steve. "It's-- ah, fuck."

"Hey, hey, come on."

Steve's hand is warm through his shirt, and Danny lets his head drop forward against Steve's chest, breathes him in, warm and there, right in front of Danny. 

"You want to talk about it?"

"No, no, I don't want to talk about it." Danny forces himself to lean back, to take a few deep, steadying breaths, to take a second look at Steve in uniform, six feet of him wrapped in tan fabric, looking every inch the Navy officer. 

"Bad day at work, huh?"

"You can say that again. You?"

Steve makes a face. "Boring. And no, I can't talk about it."

Danny smiles. "Not asking, babe."

"Yeah, okay." Steve runs a hand through his hair. "You want a drink?"

"There's beer in the fridge," Danny says automatically, and takes the bottle Steve offers him. It feels good to have cool liquid slide down his throat, the slow bite of the alcohol soothing to his wired nerves. 

"Hey." Steve is back in front of him. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Yeah," Danny says, "you can come right here. You can tell me I get to take that off--" he gestures at Steve's uniform "--because while I love the visual, I really do, you should have warned me, I could have appreciated it better, I really want you out of it."

"You never stop talking," Steve says, shaking his head but putting down his beer bottle, walking over and pulling Danny in with a hand on his hip. Danny wraps an arm around him in return, can't help himself and pulls Steve into a hug. 

"Missed you, babe."

"Yeah, me too." Steve's voice is muffled. Danny lets him go, takes a moment to really look at him. Steve leans in, kisses him, and Danny strains up after him. 

"Jesus, you are too fucking tall, I swear." 

"I'm a decent size, Danny, I don't come in a mini edition."

"Oh! Oh, you didn't just say that, are we comparing sizes now?" Danny punches him in the shoulder, can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "You are so bad, McGarrett, I swear, jesus." Steve chuckles as he leans in for another kiss, and Danny cranes his head at an impossible angle to kiss him back. He pushes Steve away gently with a hand to his chest. "No, really, babe, you're giving me a headache."

Steve shifts against him, and _okay_ , Danny likes the feeling of Steve half hard through his uniform trousers, _this is good_. Steve turns them, backs Danny against the counter and slides a hand down, cupping Danny's thigh. "Come on."

"What're you gonna do, give me a boost? What am I, your girlfriend?"

"Shut up." Steve lifts him in spite of Danny's protests, and the next thing he knows they're face to face and Steve is standing between Danny's spread legs, close and too delicious, and Danny kisses him properly, slides his tongue into Steve's mouth and groans at Steve's hand on his ass. 

"This is... really, Steven..." Danny manages to get some words in between kisses, "I refuse to be manhandled, you animal."

"Shut up, Danny."

"See, you think... hmmm... you think that works on me..."

Steve leans back, looks Danny in the eye. "It does work on you."

"No, no, see," Danny pokes at his chest, "it doesn't work on me, because here I am, still talking, and-- _whoa, fuck_." Steve cups him with one hand and squeezes, and Danny leans his head back, closing his eyes. "Steve." He grabs Steve's arm, clutches, his heart suddenly in his throat and he can't explain why. "Don't stop, _shit_."

"Danny, hey." Steve noses along his cheek, presses soft kisses to Danny's skin. "You all right?"

"Yeah." Danny's voice comes out thick and he tries not to feel embarrassed about that. Steve wraps his free arm around Danny's shoulders and pulls him to his chest, pressing an open mouthed kiss to Danny's neck. "Keep doing that," Danny manages, flailing a hand that Steve is unable to see, "don't let me think."

"Okay," Steve says against his skin, and pulls back to undo the buttons on Danny's shirt, and Danny helps by undoing his own tie. Steve ducks his head again to kiss down Danny's skin, pushing his shirt out of the way, tongue tracing the edges of Danny's pecs. 

Danny lands a hand in Steve's hair, leans back to watch Steve, feeling the warmth of Steve's mouth hot on his skin, the coolness of the kitchen contrasting. Steve winds up on his knees, undoes Danny's belt. He glances up, and Danny smiles at him, running his fingers up the back of Steve's head. 

Steve smiles back, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Danny traces a thumb over those lines, feels Steve's lashes brush his skin as he blinks. Steve peels him out of his boxers, runs a thumb up Danny's length and he can't suppress the sound he makes at that. Steve noses his hip, turns his head to press a kiss against Danny's cock, and it makes him twitch, makes him feel all kinds of warm and affectionate. 

Steve licks softly, tongues at Danny's balls, and he spreads his legs wider, fingers back in Steve's hair. He keeps watching, keeps looking at Steve, groans again when Steve presses his mouth against the underside of Danny's cock. 

Danny bites his lip to keep from breaking the silence, rubs a thumb over Steve's scalp, and he feels Steve tilt into the contact like an eager kitten, and it would have the ability to break Danny's heart, but Steve pulls back a little, flicks his eyes up at Danny, and slowly swallows him down. Everything else is drowned out by sensation, by warmth and wet and it's perfect. Danny rides the wave of sensation, the way Steve slowly sets a rhythm, careful, controlled, swallowing Danny down and then pulling back, teasing him with his tongue and fingers that are sitting in the crease of Danny's hip, both holding him still and rubbing across his skin. 

Danny lets his eyes fall shut, lets the images behind his eyelids disappear in a flood of sparks, the only things left space for are the feeling of Steve's warm mouth and the soft brush of his hair against Danny's finger tips. 

He feel his orgasm building, tingling in his nerve endings, and he lets Steve carry him there, lets Steve carry him over until he comes in Steve's mouth. 

It breaks the spell, makes him suddenly need to catch his breath, and when Steve gets up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Danny reels him in, kisses him to taste himself in Steve's mouth, leans his head against Steve's and kisses his ear because it's the nearest bit of him. "Thank you."

"Hey, no problem." Steve's voice is rough and it makes Danny shiver. He can feel Steve grin against his skin, hears a soft huff of laughter. "You good?"

"Yeah," Danny says. "Yeah, I'm more than good."

"Okay." Steve tilts his head, searches for Danny's mouth, and Danny kisses him again. When Steve steps back, Danny hops off the counter, righting his clothes and realizing suddenly how stiff his legs are. 

"Need me to return the favor?"

"Danny, I--"

"What, huh? Hey." He waits until Steve makes eye contact. "You can ask for it, babe, I don't mind."

Steve colors, ducks his head to hide it, and Danny stamps down on the laughter that wants to bubble up from his chest. 

"Okay, so I have an idea. I need a shower, you need to get out of that uniform, I'd say we combine the two and I get you naked. Somewhere in there, I'm sure I can think of a fun way to get you off."

Steve frowns. "Danny--"

"I'm not mocking you," Danny says. "I mean it. You want me on my knees, you can have me, babe, least I can do after that." He gestures at the kitchen counter. "And personally, I like showers, nice and warm, and you'll be naked..."

"Jesus," Steve says, voice rough and low and Danny grins, turns from the kitchen and looks over his shoulder. 

Steve follows, eyes on Danny, and Danny laughs in pure joy.


	7. Chapter 7

He wakes with a start, the dark oppressive and unfamiliar, and he's breathing hard, trying to shake the images of the dream. For a moment, he feels it threaten to drag him under, the fear, the memory of pain, and he struggles to sit up, to connect to something tangible. He reaches out and switches on the lamp on the nightstand. 

Steve is asleep, curled around his pillow away from Danny, and he's a solid, breathing mass that Danny takes comfort in for a moment. 

Danny's shirt is glued to his chest with sweat and he peels it away from his skin with distaste. It's not like he's going to be able to sleep now, so he carefully slides out from under the covers, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. 

"Danny?" Steve's voice is sleep-rough and confused, and Danny risks a glance over his shoulder. Steve's hair is ruffled and he's blinking at Danny. 

Danny stays seated on the edge of the bed, tries to look away, but he's captured by the open look in Steve's gaze. His heart is hammering in his chest, there's a lump in his throat all of a sudden, and he swallows, tries to clear his throat. "It's nothing."

Steve sits up. "The hell it is."

Danny tears his eyes away, stares at his bare feet on the floor. "Steve--"

"What happened today?"

If Steve were any less perceptive, Danny could have bluffed, but he knows from the sound of Steve's voice that he's not going to get away with anything. "Nothing," he says nonetheless. 

"Bullshit, Danny. I walk in and you're practically trying to crawl out of your skin and now you look like your demons paid a midnight visit and I'm supposed to buy that it's nothing?"

"Steve..." Danny looks at him again, and Steve is angry, frowning at him. 

"Don't lie to me, Danny."

Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Danny takes a deep breath, lets it out, tries not to hear how unsteady it sounds. "There's this guy."

"Okay."

"And he... we think, I think, that he's behind the attack on me." Danny shifts to be able to look at Steve properly, and Steve meets his eyes with a level gaze. "I ran into him today."

Steve nods. "It didn't go well?"

"You can say that. He basically, uh, he let me know he knew I was trying to take him down."

"He threaten you?"

"Not in so many words."

"Ah," Steve says thoughtfully. 

"'Ah'?" Danny repeats. "That's it, Steve? That's all you have for me?"

"Danny, I--"

"What, huh? What?" Danny gestures at him. "You want me to talk and this is your sage advice?" 

"Danny..."

"I would have thought that you would come up with something better. I don't know what, but something they might have taught you in the stupid Navy, I don't care, something more useful than 'ah'."

"Danny. _Danny_."

He stops at Steve's tone, adds, "What?"

"Calm down," Steve replies. "Don't take it out on me, man."

"Yeah, well, you're here," Danny says petulantly. 

"I get that." 

"You do, huh? Well, that's nice." Danny's just talking to hear sounds, to drown out the silence. His damp shirt makes the cold seep in, and he suppresses a shiver. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay," Steve says slowly. 

Danny looks at him as he gets up, feels like there's something he should say, but no words are in his brain that he wouldn't end up regretting. 

He leaves the room. 

\--

"Okay," he says slowly when he comes back in, toweling his hair dry, "I may have been a bit of an ass."

Steve looks up from the book he's reading. "Only a bit?"

"Shut up."

"Don't worry about it."

"Thank you." Danny fishes a clean t-shirt out of the bag he stashed by the end of the bed and pulls it on. 

"Gonna be able to sleep?"

Danny shrugs. "I don't know." He sits down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "I've got to try, though."

Steve puts the book aside. "Come on," he says, patting the space in front of him. "Come here."

Danny wants to resist, wants to tell Steve he'll be fine. "What?" he replies instead, hedging his bets. 

"I have an idea." 

Steve quirks a smile at him, and it reminds Danny how much he likes seeing any kind of happiness on Steve's face. He goes, slides under the covers and settles between Steve's legs, leaning back against Steve's chest. "Okay, I'm here. Now what?"

Steve's hands land on his shoulders, and his thumbs dig into Danny's muscles. He tenses for a split second, but Steve works him through it, and Danny leans his head back. 

"Oh," he says, "oh, okay, you should have-- _oh_ \-- said."

Steve has wonderful fingers, he really does, Danny knew this but it takes on a whole different meaning. He has to swallow a few sounds that would just be too embarrassing and lets himself go slack against Steve's chest. 

"You, my friend, can stay. Just keep doing that."

Steve laughs, a low, soft sound that makes Danny's insides twist hopelessly, and he feels a little lost and a lot anchored, and he closes his eyes just to feel. 

"Where'd you learn this, huh?"

Steve shifts a little, digs a thumb in deep to press down on a knot that has Danny biting his lip. "I, er..."

"What?" Danny turns his head a little, but there's no way he can get a glimpse of Steve from this position. He settles for running a hand over Steve's thigh. "Is it top secret? Am I not supposed to know?"

It makes Steve laugh again. "No, Danny, it's not classified."

"Then what?"

"There was this guy." Steve pauses for a moment, and Danny squeezes his thigh. 

"Oh, okay, there was a _guy_. This the sort of guy I think this was?"

"Yeah." Steve resumes what he was doing. "Yeah, we were... fooling around."

"Okay. He any good at 'fooling around'?"

Steve chuckles low in his throat. "Yeah, he was. Also good at this." He digs his fingers in a little deeper, and Danny can't help the groan that escapes him. 

"So, that-- _hmm_ \-- was where you picked this up?"

"Yep."

Danny lets himself slide a little sideways, all the better to rest his head against Steve's chest. "He teach you anything else?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would, actually," Danny replies, making a vague gesture before returning his hand to Steve's leg. 

"It was at the academy," Steve says, "and I'd-- I'd been with a guy before, but you know, not-- Just a bit in high school, nothing... heavy."

Danny closes his eyes again, listens to the cadences, the stops and starts in Steve's voice, tries to imagine what he's telling him, what he isn't. He hums his curiosity at Steve, pleasantly drowsy. 

"He was... He'd been around the block a few times."

Danny chuckles at Steve's choice of words, reaches up and captures Steve's left hand and pulls it down to kiss his palm. Steve's fingers twitch briefly, then Steve slides his arm over Danny's chest. 

Steve blows out a breath, and his hand stills on Danny's shoulder. "He let me fuck him. I was, god, I was young back then."

"Your first time like that?"

"Yeah."

Danny is struck with an urge to see Steve, see his face and tell what he's thinking, but moving seems like it'll destroy the atmosphere, so he stays put. 

"I mean, back in high school, I'd done blowjobs and hand jobs, not a big deal, but..."

"You never forget your first," Danny says, and Steve prods him with his hand still on Danny's shoulder. 

"Shut up."

"Yeah, no, no way. I'm trying to imagine you younger, right now, in bed with this guy, getting--"

"Shut up, Danny."

There's a dark edge to Steve's voice and Danny stops, puts his hand over Steve's and nods. "Okay, I'll keep my fantasies private." Steve shifts against his back and Danny feels his half-hard erection. "So, this guy... also the first time the other way around?"

He can feel Steve nod. 

Danny hums quietly. Steve's thigh is tense under his hand, and Danny squeezes the muscle, feels Steve start against him and then relax his leg as if by conscious effort. 

"How about you?" Steve asks. 

Danny laughs. "You want to know, huh?"

"Yeah, I want to know." Danny could swear Steve is blushing right now. "Tell me, Danny."

"My first blowjob," Danny says slowly, "was in high school, in the showers, after a baseball practice in my senior year." He remembers the confusion he'd felt back then, the high from it, how he'd been turned on by another guy, how good it had been. "Then for a while I stuck strictly to women, and none of them were kinky enough to--" He makes a gesture. "You know."

Steve noses at his hair, and his breathing is shallow. "Go on."

"My third year in college, there were a few guys, and I, uh, was willing to experiment. So I tried shit. I did both pitching and catching, and you know, found what I liked and what I didn't."

It doesn't surprise him when Steve's hand strays further down, teasing at the edge of his waistband. 

"You like," Danny says slowly, "hearing me talk about this shit. You'd never admit it, but you do."

"Yeah, I do." Steve's voice is rough, low, and his fingers creep into Danny's boxers. "So?"

Danny smiles widely. "Nothing wrong with that, babe."

"Danny..." Steve presses a kiss behind his ear, closes his teeth around an earlobe. 

"Yeah," Danny replies, "we can have sex now. I'd like that."

\--

When he wakes, it's on the other side of the bed, and sunlight is streaming through the windows. Danny stretches, pleasantly sore, and looks over his shoulder to find Steve right behind him, one loose hand on Danny's hip. 

"Hey," Steve mumbles, shifts closer, and nuzzles a nose into Danny's hair. "Don't wake up."

"What?"

"Go back to sleep," Steve says, voice low and rumbly in a way that makes Danny warm inside. "Ignore it."

"Ignore what?" Danny asks. 

"The sun," Steve explains, plastering himself against Danny's back, insinuating a leg between Danny's until they're tangled and impossible to separate. "Just..." The rest of his words are lost to a slurred kiss pressed against Danny's neck. 

Danny reaches for Steve's hand, takes it in his own and holds it against his chest, feeling warm and wrapped up and not at all inclined to go anywhere at all. 

\--

The second time he wakes he's alone in bed, and the shower is running, and Danny drags himself up and out of bed, puts on the bare necessities of clothes and heads for the kitchen to put the coffee on. Steve comes in when it's dripping and the scent is waking up Danny's brain. 

"Shower's free."

Danny glances over his shoulder, catches sight of Steve in sweats and with damp hair, and takes a moment to just look. Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, ducks his head and smiles, a dizzying, wide smile that makes Danny grin in return. "I like this look on you, babe."

Steve shrugs. "Yeah, well, I figured we weren't going to do anything today, so..."

Danny frowns, connects the dots. "Oh, the outfit, no, yeah, that's good, too." He can't help palming Steve's ass as he walks past him, and Steve swats at him, making Danny duck. "Later," Danny says with a pointed finger, and Steve does a complicated eyebrow wriggle. "I will have my revenge," Danny promises, and Steve laughs as he walks out. 

\--

When he's showered and shaved, he finds Steve in the living room, stretched out on the sofa and reading a book. Danny pours himself a mug of coffee and tilts his head, tries to read the title of the book. 

"It's about submarine warfare, Danny."

Danny feels himself color ever so slightly. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"For work?"

"Yeah."

"Huh." Danny shrugs and walks over to the couch, flapping a hand at Steve until he pulls his legs up to make space for him. "They make you read giant books on your days off?"

"Danny, I can't--"

"Talk about it, I know. Sorry."

"Is okay." Steve buries his nose in the book again, turns a page and reaches for a pencil, makes notes in the margins. Danny watches him for a bit before getting up with a sigh. Steve surfaces over the edge of the book. "Something wrong?"

"No. Just thought that if you're gonna be working, I might as well do the same. I'll be right back." Danny walks back into the bedroom and fishes file folders out of his bag, alongside his notebook. Soon enough, he has notepads and papers spread out across the couch, and Steve's feet have landed in Danny's lap. He uses them to prop his files up against; it works out beautifully. 

He sneaks the occasional glance at Steve. He's lost in his book, frowning a little and chewing on his lip occasionally, making notes here and there. Danny has a hard time keeping his attention on the description of the 49ers' structure and associates. 

"You, uh, you always get absorbed like that?"

Steve looks over the edge of the book again. "What?"

"That laser focus," Danny says, making a gesture. "Are you always like that, huh, Steven?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"That's not your name?"

"You know it's my name," Steve says, irritated. 

"So I call you by it." Danny smiles at him. "It bother you?"

Steve shrugs. "I guess not."

Danny looks at him, at the small frown that's marring his face, at the tension around his eyes. "Hey." Steve meets his gaze. "How about a break?"

"Okay," Steve says after a moment's thought. "All right."

"Good." Danny stacks his own papers together, grabs the folder on Jarvis, and it slides off the top, spilling its contents over the floor. "Ah, fuck."

Steve puts his book and pencil aside, helps him gather the pieces. He collects some of the photographs. "What's this?"

"It's a crime scene," Danny says, "don't look at it."

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. "What, is this confidential?"

"No." Danny sighs, forces himself to drop the sudden tension in his shoulders. "No, I just... most people don't want to look at crime scene photos, I--"

"It doesn't bother me, Danny," Steve says gently, "I've seen worse. Who is this girl, anyway?"

"Ramona Vasquez. Died from a heroin overdose after this guy--" he pulls Jarvis's picture out of the stack "--screwed up while cutting up a batch of drugs."

Steve looks carefully at Jarvis's picture. "Who's he then?"

"He's the guy I told you about."

That raises an eyebrow. "The one who had you beaten up?"

"Yeah." He can tell Steve is committing the guy's face to memory. It makes him reach out and pull the photos out of Steve's hands and putting them back in their jacket. "Look, it's nothing, okay?"

"It's something, Danny," Steve says, and holds his eyes. 

_Yeah, okay, so it's something_. It's the reason why Danny woke up in the middle of the night, it's the reason for the phantom stab of pain he still sometimes feels. He sighs. "Okay, it's something. Doesn't change anything."

Steve nods. "I know."

Danny stamps down on the urge to snap at him. He gets up from the couch, dislodging Steve's feet, and makes his way to the kitchen, where he assembles the makings of a sandwich from the assorted groceries that are stowed away. 

After a while, Steve comes in, and Danny feels an arm slide around his waist, Steve's lips against his neck. "Don't be mad at me, okay?"

"I'm not--" Danny lets his head fall to his chest. "I'm frustrated. That's it, that's what I am. I'm frustrated."

"Okay." Steve's mouth travels along the back of his neck and Danny leans against him, closes his eyes, lets Steve take his weight because he can, in this moment, just give up for two seconds. Steve tightens his grip, noses along Danny's ear, stays there, breathing softly over Danny's skin.

\--

By the end of the afternoon, Danny is done with it, all of it, the folders in disarray around him and information swimming in his head alongside anger. He throws his pen down and haphazardly stacks the folders together, putting them onto the table with enough force to make the coffee mugs tremble in place. 

Steve looks up from his book; he's been sitting on the other end of the couch, reading it with the sort of concentration Danny would be envious of if it weren't so freaky. "Danny?"

"I'm done," Danny says, and gets up to go to the kitchen. 

"You okay?" Steve asks before he manages to make it out of the room, and Danny doesn't turn around, doesn't want Steve to see his face all of a sudden, because he knows everything is written on it. He leans a hand against the doorjamb, breathes deeply and wills himself to stop being a spineless coward. 

"I'm fine. No, actually, I'm not fine." He finally does turn around, faces Steve and lets him see, and Steve looks at him with concern and a gaze that's burning with more compassion than Danny can handle right now. He makes a half-hearted gesture at Steve, but can't find any words. 

"You'll get this guy, Danny. You're a good cop."

"How do you know that?"

"I know you," Steve replies, and manages to make it sound like the answer to everything. 

Danny can't help smiling at that. 

Steve marks his page and puts the book away, swings his legs over the edge of the couch. "What do you need?"

 _I need you_. Danny clamps down on the words before they can escape his mouth. "Let's go back to bed," he says instead. "Just forget everything out there. I have a date with that tattoo of yours, we need to spend some quality time together."

Steve's mouth quirks, but he gets up, brushing past Danny with wandering hands, and Danny follows him to the bedroom, lets Steve take off his clothes and watches as Steve undresses. He lets Steve crowd him in, closes his eyes against the slide of skin against skin, kisses Steve back when Steve kisses him. 

"You are too gorgeous, babe." Steve ducks his head, and Danny reaches out to tip his face up, doesn't know why he does it, but still says, "No one ever told you that before, huh?"

"Shut up, Danny," Steve mumbles, kisses him, and Danny knows it's to keep him from saying more, to keep Danny from forcing an answer. 

He lets Steve heat things up between them, with hands and mouth and tongue, lets Steve push him down on the bed and trace his mouth over Danny's chest, and scratches his fingers into Steve's hair to listen to the soft sounds he makes. It's perfect, the slow burn Danny was looking for, the one that lets him forget, lets things fade away until the only thing he knows is Steve, mouth tracing over Danny's skin, the pads of his fingers skimming down one arm, anchoring Danny to the bed and keeping him confined to only the space he's in. 

Steve slowly lifts his head, looks at Danny with large eyes, blinks once, and Danny lifts his hand to Steve's face, skims a thumb over Steve's lashes. 

Steve jerks his head away, startled and blinking fast, and Danny can't help but laugh, making Steve frown. "I'm not laughing at you, babe."

"Shut up, Danny," Steve says again, like it's the only words he can find to say safely. 

Danny tugs him up and on top of him, kisses him slowly, wrapping an arm around Steve to keep him in place. He looks at Steve, his expressive eyes and the frown lines that mark his face, and the words tumble out. "I swear, I want to find everyone who ever hurt you."

Steve pulls back, pushes himself up on one elbow to create distance between them, and Danny pushes through, keeps talking because once he started, he has to finish. 

"You think I can't see it?" He traces two fingers through Steve's hair, around the rim of his ear. "You think you hide it so well, but I know you, and you break my heart, Steven."

Steve stares at him, sits up, the covers falling away and chilling Danny's skin. When Steve finally speaks, it's with a voice that's raw and hoarse. "Stop talking, Danny."

"I know. I know, okay? I get it."

"No, you really don't."

"Yeah, I do." Danny cups Steve's face before he can turn away, feels him try to pull away and holds firm. "Hey, hey, hey. Don't hide from me."

"I'm not hiding."

"Contrary bastard." He settles a hand on Steve's hip, rubs his thumb over the warm skin. "You are like one of those animals, you're like a hedgehog, that's it, prickly and soft."

Steve stares, looking so startled that Danny can't help but smile. "I'm a hedgehog?"

"Yeah. You curl up at the sight of danger, but really, you're soft and cuddly." Danny gestures to describe the outline of a hedgehog, and Steve's eyebrows nearly meet his hairline. "What, don't give me that look, you know it's true."

"You are crazy."

"Yeah," Danny says, and slides his arm around Steve, tugs him back down against him, and smiles when Steve comes into his embrace unresistingly, "but I'm not wrong."

He feels Steve press his face into Danny's neck, and cups the back of Steve's head, running fingers through his hair. Steve makes a soft noise and shivers a little, and Danny tugs the covers back over them even though he senses Steve isn't actually cold. 

He presses a kiss against Steve's hair and closes his eyes. 

\--

Steve twitches occasionally in his sleep, like he's still trying to stay alert, and Danny tries to soothe as much as he can while dozing quietly. His heart feels bruised in his chest, and he stares at the ceiling. He never felt like this with Rachel, things were always different with her, and he knows, somewhere in his heart, that he has to make a choice, has to end one thing or the other, and pushes the decision away, towards the future. Steve is in his arms and warm and here, and Danny has an empty place in his heart reserved for Rachel, but a place that he knows will be empty once Steve is gone, too. 

Steve makes a soft sound, stirs, lifts his head. "Huh."

"Hmm?"

"I fell asleep."

"Yeah," Danny replies with a smile.

Steve slides off Danny and pushes up on one elbow, drawing Danny's attention to his arm. "Sorry."

"You fell asleep on me while we were having sex," Danny teases, just to watch Steve twitch and open his mouth to reply, and then close it again. 

"Really, Danny?"

Danny sniggers at his own joke, slides off the pillow and leans in to kiss the soft skin of Steve's arm. He can feel the muscles twitch under his lips, kisses and licks the edges of the tattoo there, worries the unmarked skin with his teeth. 

" _Fuck_..." Steve whispers above him, voice hoarse. "Jesus, Danny."

Danny turns his head to look at him; Steve's eyes are widen and dark, his mouth slightly open. "Yeah?"

"Don't stop," is the only answer he gets. 

Danny can oblige.

\--

When he wakes, he's alone in bed, and he can hear Steve's voice in the living room. He gets out of bed, puts on the bare minimum of clothes and heads out to investigate. 

Steve is sitting on the edge of the dining room table, phone to his ear. "I know," he says, voice low. He doesn't notice Danny, so Danny leans in the doorway, watching Steve's hunched posture. He rarely slouches. 

"I'm at base, it's not-- No, I know that." A pause. "No, there's nothing going on. I just got transferred."

Danny raises an eyebrow, wonders what this is all about. 

"Dad, it's not--" Steve looks up and catches sight of Danny, breaks off mid-sentence. "Hang on." He covers the mouthpiece. " _What_?"

"Whoa." Danny holds up his hands. "Nothing, babe, take it easy. You want some privacy?"

"If you don't mind," Steve replies with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. Danny backs off, heading back to the bedroom. He can live with the idea of Steve lying to his family, after all, Danny does the same, but there was something about the tone of Steve's voice. 

He hears Steve's footsteps and looks up as Steve halts in the doorway. "Were you listening in on me, Danny?"

The distrust hurts, makes something stab in his chest. "I wasn't. I just... Okay, maybe I was."

"Don't."

"Steve--"

"Look, you can't know everything about me, okay, Danny? You think you know me, but you don't, okay, so just drop it. Stop trying to find out everything about me."

Danny holds up a hand. "Just wait a minute, I shouldn't have listened in, but hey, you know what, you're overreacting. And I get it, okay, I do, because you're not as mysterious as you think."

Steve narrows his eyes, frown deepening. "What did I just say to you? Stop pretending you know everything about me. You don't know me, Danny!"

"Oh yeah?" Danny yells back. "You think I didn't figure out that that in there--" he points towards the living room "--was you lying to your dad because he has no clue you're a few shades of queer?"

"What did you just say?" 

Something shifts in Steve, and Danny recognizes the same danger he saw in Steve the first night they met. He should take it as a warning, but he's tired of this, tired of being careful. "You're gay! And no one is supposed to know, because the big bad Navy SEAL can't be fucking guys, it's not part of the picture. You're so fucking uptight--"

" _Stop talking_ , Danny."

Danny ignores him. "--so fucking uptight you can't even say out loud that you want me to fuck you six ways from Sunday, that you like my dick up your ass, and you think I don't know you? You tell me how much I'm hitting home right now, Steve, you tell me that's not what you're thinking of when you've got your hand on your cock, tell me, huh?" Danny sucks in a breath. "I've figured you out a long way back, my friend, and I _do_ get it."

He can see Steve grit his teeth, can see the way Steve's hand twitches, and abruptly, he moves from the doorway, starts forward past Danny and grabs the duffel sitting on the floor. "Go fuck yourself, Danny."

Danny steps in front of him, but Steve pushes him out of the way, walks into the living room to collect his cell phone and the book he left on the coffee table, and is out the door before Danny can find the words to stop him.

\--

He spends the Sunday alternately pouring over the files in an effort to distract himself, or yelling at the silent walls. There are two hollow spaces in his chest, and it hurts, hurts too much. He feels like a worm, but still ends up calling Rachel and Grace, listening to his daughter as she tells him about the seaside town they've visited, about how different the stores are and, "everyone talks funny, Daddy."

When he gets Rachel, he asks her about that. "She can't understand the regional accents, Danny," she says with a laugh. "It's like me and New York, in the beginning."

Danny remembers that, smiles as well. "She takes after you, then."

"Yes." After a pause, she says, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "I'm fine, honey, it's just been a long week."

"Okay."

"Are you having fun, at least?"

"Yes, it's wonderful. My parents do wish you could have joined us, but they understand."

Danny raises both eyebrows and is glad she can't see. He's never gotten along with Rachel's mother, and she knows it. "Yeah, I know."

Rachel laughs. "You're an unconvincing liar."

"Yeah, well... We'll call it cultural differences."

"Okay." In the background, he hears a voice, and a moment later Rachel says, "I have to go."

"Okay. Love you, babe."

"You, too."

He listens to the dial tone for a while before finally putting down the phone.

\--

Monday morning passes with another robbery to follow up on, more stakeouts and reports to read, witnesses to interview, and before Danny knows, it's eight and he is not even finished yet. Trent went home at seven, and Danny drags himself out the door and down the road to Ariana's, where he orders a beer and watches the few stragglers that made it in this night. 

"Long time no see," Ariana comments, stopping off to chat when she's done serving everyone. "Been busy, Danny?"

"You can say that." He drinks his beer. 

"Heard you had some trouble a while back."

Cops are infernal gossips. "Yeah, nothing I couldn't handle."

She nods, wipes absently at the bar out of force of habit. "Glad to see you're still around, though."

Her warm smile is nice, nice to know someone cares. "Thanks," he manages. 

"You want another one?"

"Yeah, go ahead." He waits till she's done switching out the bottles. "Hey, Ariana?"

"Hmmm?"

"You, uh, you're clever, right?"

She nods, bemused. "I might be."

"You listen to a lot of people's problems, and you've seen it all before."

"I guess." She tilts her head. "What's on your mind, Danny?"

"Do affairs ever end well?"

"Some." She looks at him. "Is this about you or someone else?"

Danny shrugs. "Remember that guy? Just after New Year's?"

She frowns, but nods. "The soldier. The one who came back and apologized."

Danny says nothing. 

"You and... _him_? Really? How..."

"That night. That he came back, I mean." Danny runs a hand over his hair. In a way, it feels good to talk to someone about it. 

"Are you still seeing him?"

"We had a fight. Two days ago." Danny drinks half his bottle in one go. "So not any more, I guess."

Ariana's eyes slide over his shoulder and around the room for a bit before coming back to him. "I'm sorry, Danny."

"Yeah."

She uncaps a third bottle, places it next to the one he nearly finished. "This one's on the house, babe."

\--

Danny's phone rings early on Tuesday morning, just as he pulls into the station parking lot. He answers without thought. "Williams."

"I need to talk to you."

Steve's voice makes him pause mid motion, drop back into his seat and close the car door. "What the fuck?"

"I need to talk to you," Steve repeats. 

"Yeah, I heard you the first time. What the hell about?"

"You know what about."

"No, see," Danny gestures to the empty car, "no, I know how you walked out because I told you the truth for once."

"Danny--" Irritation is coloring Steve's voice. "Look, I don't have a lot of time, if you don't want to see me again, just tell me."

The thought makes Danny's stomach clench. "Steve--"

"I can drive down tonight. Should I?"

Danny runs a hand through his hair and swears under his breath. "Yeah, all right. We can talk. Come down."

"I'll be there at nine."

Danny hangs up on that.

\--

He's legitimately angry with Steve, spends two hours working up that anger, anger at the way Steve left, the way he can't take the truth. He spends two hours smoothing over the affection he feels, the compassion, works up a good front, and then Steve opens the door and everything is in vain. 

Steve moves with stops and starts that betray a bone deep exhaustion, confirmed by dark circles under his eyes, the tight lines around his mouth, and the way he keeps one arm pressed against his body. He pauses in the doorway to the living room, and Danny stands in the middle, looking at him. Steve clears his throat a few times, finally speaks. 

"I'm sorry."

His voice is raw and Danny wants to make that go away, to put him to bed and make him sleep, to do stupid, stupid things like that as long as it'll make Steve look less like he's about to fall apart. He also wants to yell at him. "Yeah?"

"Danny, I--" Steve runs a hand over his mouth. "Look, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, okay? This thing, this was never supposed to-- I don't do this, I sleep with a guy, that's it, one night, a few nights, then I move on. You-- This was not supposed to happen."

"Well, I'm glad I'm so inconvenient for you, Steven."

"That's not-- Will you _listen_ to me? You were right, is that what you want to hear? You were right, everything you said, you were right and I don't know, okay?" Steve sucks in a shuddering breath. "I haven't slept the last two nights; I'm going out of my mind, Danny."

"Okay, okay." Danny goes over, tugs him into his arms, lets Steve curl himself around Danny, feels how he's shaking. "It's okay, Steve, it's okay, hey."

"You were right," Steve repeats, his voice low and muffled now. "No one ever... _Danny_."

"Sssh, sweetheart." Danny strokes his hair. "Did you eat? Yeah? Okay, come on, bed for you then, you're about to keel over."

Steve recovers some of his equilibrium as they make their way to the bedroom, steals a kiss when they undress, and Danny smiles against his mouth. "Sleep," he reminds him gently. 

"Yeah," Steve says, betraying himself by yawning. 

When they settle into bed, Steve keeps a careful distance, until Danny hauls him in, grabs an arm and tugs until Steve folds himself around Danny, holding on tightly and burying his nose in Danny's hair.

\--

Danny wakes like that, with Steve wrapped around him like an octopus, the alarm on Steve's watch beeping at an ungodly hour. Steve switches it off with a practiced hand, slides out from under the sheets. Danny rolls onto his back and switches on the light. 

Steve dresses and Danny watches in silence till Steve glances over his shoulder and stops. "Danny, I--" He runs a hand over his mouth. "Look, are we okay?"

Danny sits up, pulling his knees up under the covers to rest his elbows on them. "You wanna have this conversation now?"

Steve shrugs. "Don't know when I'll be back here."

"You tell me, Steve." Danny holds his gaze. "I'm not the one who walked out when I told you the truth."

Steve looks away, and Danny hates it. "What do you want from me, Danny?"

"I want you to trust me. No, don't give me that look. I know you'd jump in front of a bullet for me, Steve, but--" Danny gestures between them "--you won't trust me with anything else."

"Okay." Steve nods slowly. "Okay, I hear you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've got to go."

"I know, babe." Danny feels a heavy sadness sitting in his chest, watching Steve, watching him move. "Hey."

"Hmmm?"

"Don't fall asleep out there."

It brings a smile to Steve's face, and he comes back, straddles Danny and leans in to kiss him. With a groan, Danny pulls him closer, deepening the kiss until they're both breathing hard. 

"One for the road," Steve says against his mouth, and kisses him again. 

\--

Steve calls after days of boring stakeouts and paperwork and leads drying up, and Danny is frustrated as he juggles files, coffee mug, and phone. "What?" he snaps.

"Bad time?"

"Hey." Danny drops the whole mess on his desk, manages to keep the mug from tipping over at the last second. "No, talk to me."

Across the desk, Trent gives him a glance, but Danny ignores it. "I've got the weekend," Steve says in his ear, "but if I drive down tonight it might be late. I, uh, I have a thing."

"A thing you can't talk about," Danny replies. 

"Yeah." Steve clears his throat. "I, uh, I do want to come down, I mean, tonight, I--"

"God, babe," Danny sighs. The hesitance in Steve's voice kills him a little. 

"Danny..."

"Hmm?"

"I miss sleeping in a bed with you."

 _Jesus_. Danny sucks in a breath, thinks of another weekend with just the two of them, Steve in his arms and nothing else to worry about. "Me, too, babe. How late, do you know?"

"I can't get away before ten, maybe eleven."

"Late late. Got it. I'll wait up for you."

"You don't have to--"

"I want to," Danny replies. "I want to, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." Steve laughs, a soft sound of relief. "See you later, Danny."

"You, too."

He puts the phone down and starts clearing up the mess that's now all over his desk. Trent raises both eyebrows at him. "You are head over heels for this girl, huh?"

"What?"

Trent gestures towards the phone. "Whoever she is, she must be something special. I've seen Rachel, you are one hell of a lucky guy, let me tell you."

Danny leans across the desk. "Shut up. Just shut the fuck up, okay?"

"Whoa, man. Just saying."

"You have no clue." Danny shakes his head. "No fucking clue."

\--

When Steve finally comes in, Danny is sort of maybe dozing, but not sleeping. He sits up and rubs at his eyes, catches sight of Steve in the doorway, still in BDUs, duffel slung over his shoulder. 

Steve clicks on the light, and Danny blinks. "What happened to you?"

Steve has a bruise on the left side of his face, running from his temple down over his jaw. It looks fresh and swollen, and Danny gets up from the couch to investigate. "It's nothing," Steve says dismissively, batting away Danny's probing fingers. "Training accident."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Nothing I can't handle."

"Tough guy," Danny says affectionately. Steve smiles at him with weary eyes, and Danny cups the good side of his face, presses a careful kiss against that smile. "Hey."

Steve closes his eyes at the contact. "Hey, yourself."

"Hungry?"

"I ate on the road."

"All right." Danny stretches gingerly. "Bed?"

"Sounds good. Lead the way."

Danny takes his hand, tugs him along, and Steve follows docilely, trailing after him and dropping his bag by the bed. He unbuttons his uniform jacket and strips it off, pulls his t-shirt up over his head carefully, and when Danny catches sight of his back, he whistles through his teeth. 

More bruises, all fresh, dark patches of skin colored an angry purple that'll be a deep, ugly bruise by morning. "Wow, babe, the Navy really didn't like you this week."

Steve glances at him. "I was--" He clears his throat. "I was off my game; my own fault."

"Yeah?" Danny stops unbuttoning his own shirt, walks over to skim his fingers over Steve's skin. Steve hisses, but doesn't pull away. When Danny gets to a bruise sitting low on Steve's hip, disappearing into his trousers, his fingers still and a chill runs down his spine. He's seen the outline of a boot print on a human body too often not to know it. "What the hell is this?"

"Danny, it's not--"

"Not what? Not what I think? It's exactly what I think, don't lie to me, I'm a cop." He stares at Steve, takes in the shuttered look and the lines around his eyes. "When you take your pants off, what else am I going to see, Steven? Huh?"

"Like I said, I wasn't focused."

"Jesus," Danny says, more to himself than Steve. He turns around to pace the room, whirls back to point a finger at Steve. "You think this is normal. You just got the shit kicked out of you, and this is normal to you." He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Steve."

"Danny--"

"Don't tell me everything's okay."

Steve holds up a hand. "Okay, I won't. But would you stop freaking out? It's not--"

"I'm not freaking out!"

"It's not that big a deal, Danny." Steve grabs his shoulder, holds him still. "Hey, I'm okay."

"No, you, my friend, are not okay. This," Danny gestures to encompass Steve and everything, "is not okay. Who the hell did this, huh? _Why_ did they do this?"

"Because if they don't, someone else will, and it'll be worse." Steve is frowning now. "Let it go, Danny."

"Someone else will?" The hair on the back of Danny's neck stands up. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"I can't tell you," Steve says, holding his eyes. "Danny... It's been a long day, I already got yelled at once back at base, can we just go to bed?"

Danny blows out a long breath. "Yeah, okay." He returns to unbuttoning his shirt, sees out of the corners of his eyes how stiffly Steve moves, and it makes him itch, makes him antsy. He heads to the bathroom to go brush his teeth, and when he catches sight of his own reflection in the mirror, it makes him pause. 

He heads back to the bedroom. "Steve."

Steve is down to his boxers, and Danny spots a few more bruises on Steve's legs, though the majority seems to be concentrated on his torso. "Yeah?"

"Sorry about just now. It's... I guess it's none of my business."

Steve nods. "No problem."

"You need anything for those bruises?"

Steve glances down at himself. "Like what?"

"Like--" Danny stops himself from repeating the words. "Painkillers, babe? To help you sleep?"

"I'll be fine."

"Tough guy," Danny says again. "Jesus, do you think that makes you attractive or something? Because you're wrong."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Danny wants to glare at him, but he can't help laughing. "Stop trying to turn me on, okay, it's fucking one thirty in the morning and you have been used as a punching bag, this is not a time to make me think about having sex with you."

Steve pauses, thinks that through. "I'm game if you are."

"Jesus." Danny can't help feel a flare of interest. "Look at you, you think you're up for it?"

"Nothing like a bit of an edge to things to keep it interesting."

That, Danny's body decides, is definitely a turn on. His mouth goes dry. "You are fucking crazy."

Steve takes a step towards him. "Yeah."

Danny can't stop looking at the boot print on Steve's hip, can't stop thinking about putting his mouth to it and making it his, thinks about sinking his teeth into the abused skin and listening to Steve gasp. "Fuck," he groans, already reaching for Steve's boxers, pulling them down so he can see the crescent shape of the bruise darken as it curves over Steve's hip bone. He manages to drag his eyes up to Steve's face. "Stop me if it's too much."

Steve nods, leans in to kiss him, and Danny kisses him back briefly before sliding to his knees and doing exactly what he'd had in mind.

\--

Steve sleeps restlessly, starts out curled against Danny and shifts away, comes back to cling to him and then rolls away again. It keeps Danny drifting in and out of sleep, and when he finally sits up, Steve starts awake with a hand that's definitely reaching for a phantom weapon. Steve sits up too, rubs a hand over his face and breathes deeply a few times, and Danny watches him in silence. 

In the dark, Steve looks at him. Danny raises an eyebrow, but Steve doesn't say anything. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Danny offers.

"No."

"Okay."

Steve's voice is thick, he shakes his head. "Danny, I--" 

"Hey, hey. You can tell me."

"I don't know what I'm doing. I just... I thought this could just be a thing, you know? Just something, for a while, I don't know, somebody regular. I liked you. But now... I can't focus, when we got into that fight, I just... I lost it, Danny." Steve stares at the covers. "When the captain yelled at me today to get my act together... I've never fucked up like that."

Danny shifts closer, puts a hand on Steve's back and leans in to press his mouth to Steve's skin. 

"I'm lying to everyone in my life, Danny."

"I know, babe." Danny presses another kiss to his shoulder.

"I thought about telling my dad." Steve runs his fingers over a fold in the sheets, back and forth, almost hypnotizing. "When I first-- when I--" He breaks off, shakes his head. 

Danny feels him tremble under his mouth, under his hand, rubs his fingers gently over Steve's bruised skin. "What? Hey."

Steve tips his head back, blinks away the tears Danny knows are in his eyes even though he can't see them in the dark. "I can't tell him."

Danny leans in, kisses the corner of Steve's mouth, the corner of his eye. He tastes salt under his lips. 

Steve's voice drops to a whisper. "I haven't seen him in a long time, Mary even longer. I haven't been back to Iowa in years. I don't stay, Danny. I don't go back to places I've left."

"You've got to stop running at some point, Steve."

"I'm not running."

"No?" Danny leans back enough to look Steve in the eye. "So the Navy isn't you running away from being gay? This, right here, isn't you running away from a real relationship? And not telling your dad, that's not you running away, either?"

Steve tears his eyes away. "I didn't join the Navy because-- I didn't, okay?"

"Okay, I believe you." 

"And my dad... Why would I do that to him? Does he need to know?"

"Chances are he loves you, Steve, and won't care one bit."

"Does your father care?"

Danny smiled. "No. My parents know, and they don't care. They'd care about this, and they wouldn't be happy, and they are right, don't give me that look, but they don't care about you being a guy, believe me."

"The Navy cares."

"Yeah, the Navy cares." Danny sighs. "I'm sorry about that, babe."

"Yeah." Steve breathes out haltingly. "I love you, Danny. I know this can't go anywhere, and I don't know what to do with myself some days, because when you're around, I-- I can't stop being with you, and when you're not, I can't stop thinking about you."

Danny's heart shatters, the lost look that Steve gives him breaking what is left of it, already bruised. "Babe," he manages hoarsely, and pulls Steve in for a kiss. 

Steve presses him back into the sheets, shifts on top of him, kisses from Danny's mouth to his jaw, licks over stubble and bites down on Danny's shoulder. 

"I love you," Danny says out loud. 

Steve stills for a beat, then lifts his head to look at Danny in the dark. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, babe."

\--

In the morning, Danny's raw from too little sleep and too much of everything else, and he leaves the bed first, lets Steve sleep curled around his pillow. He showers and shaves, makes breakfast and coffee, and settles in on the couch, reaching again for the stack of files that he knows by heart but can't put down. 

Steve wanders out of the bedroom a few hours later, the bruises marring his body looking worse in the stark morning light, and Danny winces as he watches him. "Come here."

Steve comes over, slow and unhurried, a soft smile on his face. Danny kisses his stomach, mouths around the edge of a bruise, and carefully runs his tongue over the boot print on Steve's hip. He hears Steve's breathing above him, loud in the silent room, until Steve's hand comes into his hair. "You gonna wake me up proper, Danny?"

Danny pulls back. "You think you are smooth, babe? I'll give you smooth."

Steve laughs, and it's a beautiful sound, and Danny wants to keep it, wants to keep hearing it. He lets tickling fingers wander over Steve's side, and Steve twists away, laughs again, captures Danny's hand in his before straddling him. "Paperwork on a Saturday, Danny?"

He's half hard against Danny's stomach, and Danny shifts, watches as Steve bites his lip. "You were snoozing. Had to entertain myself."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Danny pulls him down for a kiss. "You still want that blowjob?"

"You think I'm gonna say no?"

Danny makes a face. "There's nothing else you want? Maybe go back to bed, spend some quality time together..."

Steve frowns. "We can do that later."

"You got some place to be? You in a hurry?"

Steve shrugs. "I want to go for a run."

Danny skims a hand up Steve's back just to watch him wince. "You're not exactly in great shape for working out."

"That's why. Everything's seized up, I got to run it out."

Danny raises an eyebrow. "That sounds painful."

"I'll be fine."

"Tough guy," Danny says affectionately. 

\--

Steve leaves the flat in sweats, stays away for a good hour while Danny works through the file folders again, spending a few minutes staring at Jarvis's face. They've gotten exactly nowhere over the last week. Danny will admit he wasn't at his best, but even the new robbery didn't leave them with any leads. 

He goes over his notes as Steve comes back in, looking sweaty and vibrant and sexier than anyone has a right to. Danny follows him into the bedroom, into the shower, and persuades him back into bed. Afterwards, he falls asleep with his head on Steve's chest, and wakes to Steve leafing through Danny's files. 

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I was just looking."

"You sound like my daughter. I never believe her, either."

Something crosses Steve's face, an expression Danny files away to examine later. "I wanted to see what you were working on."

"Why?" Danny peers at him suspiciously. "Seriously, Steve, what are you doing looking at my case files?"

Steve manages to look sheepish. "You keep dragging these things around. I just wanted... I wanted to help."

"That's cute, babe." Danny sits up and pushes his hair back. Steve's mouth twitches, but he doesn't say anything. "So, did you find anything?" He peers over the edge of the bed, where the files sit neatly arranged in three stacks. One folder is lying conspicuously off to the side, and Danny recognizes it without needing to read the label. 

"Yeah," Steve says, "I read it."

Danny stares at his own case file before dragging his eyes back to Steve. "Well, I looked better after that than you do now, so I guess we're even."

Steve frowns. "Danny, you were in the hospital."

"I know, I was there for it, remember?" Danny pulls away, gestures at the air. "Can we please not talk about it? It's not a day I like revisiting."

"Okay." Steve taps the paper in front of him. "You guys are investigating the robbery angle?"

"Yeah. Trent, my partner, has this theory it's how he funds the drug business."

Steve nods. "Makes sense. And you keep tabs on Jarvis?"

"Surveillance unit is on him 24/7." Danny sighs. "Look, Steve, I appreciate you wanting to help, but we've been over this a hundred times."

"I know. Did you consider electronic surveillance?"

"We can't get a warrant." Danny plucks the folder out of Steve's hand and dumps it on the bed. "Stop reading this shit."

"Danny..."

"And stop looking at me like I ran over your puppy, jesus." Danny flops onto his back and stares at the ceiling. 

Steve rolls onto his side and shifts closer, nosing at Danny's hair. He slides an arm across Danny's chest. 

"You're a stealth hugger," Danny informs him, but he tangles his fingers with Steve's anyway.

\--

It's when they're cooking dinner that Steve brings it up again. "So, I know you don't want me looking at your files, but I was thinking--"

"Would you give it a rest?" Danny gestures at him with the knife he's using to cut vegetables. Steve sneaks a hand under his wrist, grabs hold of Danny's arm and moves it out of the way. Danny stares at him. "That is freaky, babe. Don't do that."

Steve plucks the knife out of Danny's fingers with his free hand. "Don't point weapons at me."

"Whoa." Danny shakes his head, but lets it go; something about the look in Steve's eyes suggests this is non-negotiable. "Okay, fine." Steve lets go, takes a step back. Danny watches him from under his lashes. "You were saying?"

"Right." Steve clears his throat. "I was wondering if you guys had looked outside of Bergen."

"Huh?" Danny takes the knife back again to resume slicing carrots. "Why would we do that?"

"Just something that... This guy's a gun runner, right? Now, I don't know much about New Jersey, but I know gun dealers and--"

Danny raises a pointed eyebrow, and Steve makes a gesture. 

"--it's a small territory to be operating in, that's all."

"There's hundreds of people wanting to buy a gun in Bergen, babe."

Steve shrugs. "Probably. But there's not hundreds of places you can rob, eventually people are going to wise up, install cameras. You got to vary the MO, or you're going to get caught."

Danny squints at him. "How do you know so much about this?"

"Classified," Steve replies. 

"Of course it is," Danny says with a sigh. "Look, I appreciate the effort--"

Steve turns to face him, stops stirring the sauce pan. "Danny, take me seriously." 

"I do take you seriously."

"No, you don't. I'm not just saying this, I was looking at your files, and the map you have, there's a lot of cases on the east side of Bergen, but Jarvis's base of operations is in the west."

Danny pauses, puts down the knife. "What?"

"I'll show you." Steve disappears from the room, comes back with the files carefully divided into stacks. He spreads them out on the kitchen table. "Look. Here's the gym, where you got attacked, and the weapons deals, the drug overdose, all in the west side." Danny nods, looks at the map. "Here's the robberies. Except for these first few, they're all out east."

"Why did you look at this?"

Steve glances sideways. "Knowing your enemy's area of operations is strategically relevant."

Danny blinks, looks at him for a bit. "You're kind of sexy when you talk like that, babe."

Steve meets his eyes, looking momentarily confused, then breaks into a grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Steve shrugs, looking a little too smug for Danny's tastes. "In any case, you have intel missing."

"I have what now?"

"There's information missing, Danny, you don't have any intel for Manhattan or Brooklyn."

"Yeah, they're not my jurisdiction." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, I see your point, I need to get in touch with those divisions."

Steve nods. 

"Okay," Danny says, "Thank you. This is useful, I appreciate this."

Steve's mouth twitches, but he resists saying something. Danny slaps a hand in his direction, but Steve ducks.


	8. Chapter 8

On Sunday morning Danny wakes lazily to an empty bed. Upon investigation, the whole apartment is empty, and he discovers a note on the kitchen counter, _gone running_. Danny smiles as he sets the coffee to drip and wanders into the shower, sticks the note absently into his pocket as he has breakfast and lets the caffeine wake him up. 

Steve returns, sweaty and exhilarated, and Danny takes one look at him and crowds him against the wall. "Jesus, you are gorgeous."

Steve chuckles. "Shut up."

"Yeah." Danny dives in to kiss him. "Sure, babe. Whatever."

Steve wraps an arm around him, pulls him in tight. "Danny," he says hoarsely, "Danny."

Danny makes an inquisitive noise, pulls back far enough to look at Steve, at his shuttered eyes, the flush that's creeping up on his cheeks. He runs a finger over Steve's cheekbone, carefully skirts around the bruise Steve still has on his face. "What?"

"Want you to fuck me, Danny." Steve ducks his head, kisses Danny's neck, mouths at his shoulder. "Been thinking about it all morning."

"Okay." Danny runs fingers through Steve's hair. "Okay, I can do that."

Steve laughs, low and a little embarrassed, and Danny forces his head up just to watch him blush. 

"Come on then."

\--

Danny peers forlornly into the box. "We're out of condoms, babe."

Steve is spread out with that same smug satisfaction that is both extremely sexy and extremely annoying, and runs a hand up Danny's side. "It went to a good cause."

"You realize we worked our way through a whole box?"

"Yeah." Steve rolls onto his side and presses his nose between Danny's shoulders. "Don't care."

"A good cause." Danny sniggers. "We'll have to get new."

"Hmmm." 

"I like you like this," Danny says, shifting carefully onto his back without dislodging Steve, who simply burrows in closer. 

"Like what?" Steve slurs. 

"Fucked stupid," Danny replies, and Steve half-heartedly pokes him in the side. "Was it good for you, babe?"

Steve cracks open an eye. "You didn't just ask me that."

"Yeah, I did."

"Oh, man. Shut up, Danny."

"Come on," Danny eggs him on, running a hand down Steve's chest, feeling him shift as he thumbs a nipple. "Tell me."

"Hmmm," Steve murmurs again, burying his nose against Danny's arm. 

"Me," Danny says with a grin, "I had a good time, babe. You have no idea how amazing you feel."

Steve cracks open an eye, looks at him warily, but with an edge of interest in his gaze. 

Danny slides down a little until he can press a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth. "Definitely feel fucking fantastic."

Steve opens his mouth under his, makes a suppressed sound against him. 

"I like your hands; I love your mouth. But jesus, babe, fucking you is so good."

Steve breaks away from him, swears under his breath and straddles Danny. "Fuck you."

Danny blinks up at him, at the beautiful frustration on Steve's face, the dark lust in his eyes, and smiles widely. 

"If I get you hard, will you fuck me again?"

Danny's cock goes from spent to interested in a half second at Steve's words. "You'll be really sore. Plus, we're out of condoms, remember?"

"Fuck that," Steve growls.

"You may say that," Danny replies, "but we're not doing this without."

Steve sags a little, lets his chin fall down to his chest. "Shit."

Danny reaches under the covers, runs a finger under Steve's cock to feel how hard he is already. Steve bucks and swears, eyes drilling into Danny's. 

"Don't."

"Okay." Danny pulls his hand away. He sits up a little, and Steve leans in, kisses him hard and fast, his frustration tangible. "Hey, you really need this?"

" _Danny_." Steve's voice is almost a whine, and he rubs his cock against Danny's stomach.

He's so gorgeous like this, it makes Danny want to give in, want to spend hours watching Steve fall apart, make him beg for it. He sits up properly, brings his mouth to Steve's ear and says in a low voice, "I'll finger you until you come, that sound good, babe? Tell me you want that, come on."

"Jesus, Danny."

"Come on," Danny says hoarsely. "Tell me, Steve. Tell me you want my fingers in your ass so deep you'll still feel it tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"Yes. Yes, I want your fingers in me, jesus, Danny, just do it already." 

Steve's blushing, but his eyes are burning, and Danny kisses him hard, rolls them so Steve's lying on his back, and fumbles for the lube. "We're gonna need new lube after this, too."

"Whatever." Steve reaches for his hand, tries to make him hurry, and Danny slaps at him. 

"Let me do this right, for god's sake, you want to be able to walk tomorrow."

"I'm good, Danny, just--"

Danny lubes up two fingers and presses inside, watches the way Steve squeezes his eyes shut. "You are so desperate for this, huh?"

Steve doesn't answer, just bites his lip as Danny scissors his fingers, trying to find what he's looking for, and then he finds it, because Steve's hips come off the bed and he cries out. Danny shifts closer, plasters himself against Steve's side, swallows the next cry out of his mouth with a kiss. 

"Look at you," he says near Steve's ear, "just two fingers and you're gagging for it. You know how gorgeous you are right now? Desperate and begging for it, Steven, you would beg me, hmm, if you could. You should see yourself, babe."

Steve makes a soft, whining noise, seems beyond speech. He turns his head towards Danny, and Danny meets him in a kiss, carefully adds a third finger and feels Steve freeze against him. 

"Too much?"

Steve shakes his head, makes a gesture. "No," he forces out, " _jesus, Danny_..."

"I know." Danny shifts closer, uses his free hand to brush Steve's sweaty hair off his forehead. Steve presses his face against Danny's arm. "I've got you."

He moves his fingers in and out, feels how Steve's muscles clench around him, feels Steve shaking, full body tremors as he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. He's falling apart under Danny's hands and it's beautiful, it's mind-blowingly gorgeous, and Danny takes him there, feels the trust in the way Steve turns to him instinctively. 

"You're close, huh?" Danny tugs his free arm away from Steve's head and wraps his fingers around Steve's cock, and it takes barely two quick pulls before Steve comes all over his hand. 

He lies still, breathing hard and keeping his eyes closed, and Danny carefully pulls out his fingers and cleans Steve up, listening to the sounds Steve doesn't quite manage to keep hidden. He pulls Steve in, and is not surprised when Steve wraps himself around him and clings a little. 

"I've got you," Danny says again, strokes over Steve's hair. "You okay?"

"I'm good." Steve's voice is muffled against his chest. "Thank you."

"You can thank me later," Danny replies, and Steve snorts as he burrows deeper under the covers.

\--

Danny lets Steve sleep for a few more hours, figuring he needs it, and amuses himself with bad Sunday morning television until Steve wanders out of the bedroom, hair mussed and gorgeous. 

"Hey," Danny says with a smile. 

"Hey," Steve replies, sitting down on the couch next to him. "What's up?"

"Nothing. It's all crap and it's going to melt my brain."

Steve snorts. "Yeah, tv will do that to you."

"Oh, don't tell me. You're one of those pure people who only do art and never lower themselves to episodes of _Oprah_ on their days off."

Steve merely gives him a raise of an eyebrow. 

Danny gestures at him in annoyance. "Fine, you tell me what we should do then."

Steve grins, giving Danny a dangerous sense of foreboding. "There's an exhibition on 20th century military history uptown."

"And you know this how?"

"I can use the internet, Danny."

Danny sighs. "Of course you can. There's no end to your skills. All right, then, you want us to go to a museum."

Steve looks at him. "We don't have to, if you don't want to."

Danny knows that expression on his face, knows it too well, the way Steve is hiding his emotions, his fear of rejection. "We can go, babe, and you can tell me all about the many and varied ways you know how to kill people."

"It's not like that, Danny."

"I know." He gives Steve a smile. "Let's go look at some guns then."

\--

The exhibition makes Steve's face light up like a kid in a candy store, and although it's interesting stuff, Danny's far more interested in watching Steve enjoy himself. He lets Steve explain things to him, lets Steve steer him from one interesting fact to another, sees a side of Steve he knew existed but hadn't met before. 

It hurts, in places, when he watches Steve, because this side he won't see often, and he and Steve will never have what Danny sometimes longs for. It makes him more and more aware of how they're on a collision course with time, how their luck or Danny's strength will run out, and then they'll both have their hearts broken and nothing to show for it. 

"Danny?"

He tears himself away from his morbid thoughts. "Yeah?"

"You okay?"

Steve is too perceptive for his own good, and it makes Danny feel warm and squishy inside in ways that are not helpful. "I'm good," he says. "You done?"

"Yeah. We should get some food, I'm hungry."

It's late and Danny could definitely eat, too. "Sure thing. You want to eat here, or go back--" he swallows the word _home_ before it can cross his lips, manages to substitute it before it escapes him "--to the place first?"

"We can eat here," Steve replies. "I've not really been to New York before."

 _Kid in a candy store_ , Danny thinks again, and oh, that does kind of break his heart. He steers Steve to the exit, watching the way Steve glances covertly at the sights, the skyscrapers, the taxis and sounds. "You like New York?"

"It's a bit like home. Only different."

"Different how?" Danny asks.

"More noise." Steve shrugs. "I don't know, Hawaii is... It's a different way of life, Danny, island spirit and everything."

Danny should watch his words better, but he forgets himself. "You should take me there some time."

Something crosses Steve's face, a pained expression that makes Danny regret his words more than he already does. "Yeah, maybe."

"Steve..."

"It's fine."

 _The hell it is_. Danny lets it drop, points the way to a reasonably quiet restaurant instead. "Let's eat."

\--

Steve is picking morosely at his food, and Danny watches him for a bit until he's had enough. He throws his fork down. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories for you, Steve."

Steve glances up. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

"No, see, you're not, because you're eating like, like a shark who doesn't like fish, what, don't look at me like that."

Steve's mouth tugs into the semblance of a smile. "Sometimes your metaphors are a bit off the beaten path, Danny."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad to be of amusement." Danny takes a sip of water. "And I'll have you know I'm very off the beaten path."

Steve rolls his eyes at that. "Sure you are."

Danny wants to smack him, but they're in polite company. He eats some more food. "Steve..."

Steve meets his eyes, and for a moment, Danny knows they both know. "Let's not talk about it," Steve says, imploring. "Come on, Danny, not yet."

Danny nods. "Okay."

"I know we have to, just--" Steve sighs. "Not yet."

"Okay," Danny says again. "Don't worry about it, babe."

"All right."

Danny takes another sip of his drink. "Will you..." He hesitates.

"What?"

"Will you tell me about Hawaii? Or shouldn't I ask?"

Steve's mouth twitches. "I don't know if there's much to tell."

Danny makes a gesture. "It's only supposed to be paradise."

"It's nice," Steve acknowledges. "Palm trees, sunshine, surfing. Just like the ads."

"No crime?"

Steve shrugs. "There's crime. My dad used to be a cop, he's in the private sector now, but yeah, there's crime."

Danny studies Steve's face, the way he stays tight around the edges as if memories of home aren't all good. He knows only fragments of what is an undoubtedly long and complicated story, and part of him wants to stop Steve talking just so he'll stop looking so careful. "Do you miss it?"

"I don't go back a lot."

 _Hang on_. "That's not an answer."

Steve bites his lip. "No, it's not." He blows out a breath. "I don't know, Danny, some days."

"The Navy keeps you busy," Danny says. 

"I guess." Steve meets his eyes. "What do you really want to know?"

Danny frowns. "What?"

"Why are you asking all these questions?"

Steve and his suspicious mind. "I want to know _you_ ," Danny explains. "Nothing nefarious, babe, I'm not asking about state secrets, just what your life was like."

Steve rubs a hand across his mouth. "Danny, I-- It was a long time ago, and my dad-- he was a good father, he just wasn't always around much, I--"

Danny watches him trail off, reaches out to lay his hand over Steve's, and is not surprised when Steve pulls back. "All right, no more questions."

"Thanks."

\--

On the subway back, Steve is twitchy and shrugs off Danny's touch, so he leaves him alone and lets him work out whatever it is that's bothering him. When they get off on the other end, Danny pauses. 

"We should make a stop."

"What?"

"We're still out of stuff."

Steve looks momentarily puzzled. "Oh. Yeah, we should get the, uh, stuff."

Danny grins, steering them to the 7-11, Steve still quiet next to him. 

"Everything okay?" Danny finally asks. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." Steve pushes open the door, holds it for Danny. 

"You are so predictable, I swear." The night clerk looks up from his magazine, and Danny nods at him. The clerk nods back with a friendly smile before returning to his reading. "Always the same answer, honestly."

"What do you want me to say, Danny? 'No, my life sucks'?"

Danny shrugs. "It would be a refreshing answer, Steven."

"Shut up."

"No." Danny turns into the correct aisle and studies their choices. Steve pulls up short next to him, reaches for the box closest to him, and starts perusing the lube selection. Danny plucks the box from his hand. "Not those."

"What's wrong with those, Danny?"

"I don't like them."

Steve blinks. "Whatever. You pick."

Danny takes a second, finds the brand he prefers and hands it to Steve, who has the audacity to smirk. "You don't like my choice?"

He can hear the laughter in Steve's voice. "I like it just fine." 

"I'm a careful consumer," he shoots back. 

"Sure." Steve picks up a bottle of lube. "Does this meet with your approval?"

Danny plucks the bottle from his hand and studies the label. "It'll do," he decides. Steve takes it back and heads for the checkout. Danny pauses. "Hang on."

"What?"

"Don't give me that look, Steven. We haven't had dessert; I want a Kit Kat."

"A Kit Kat."

"Yes. Don't come between a man and his chocolate, I'm just saying."

The desk clerk has lowered the magazine and is watching them, and Danny rolls his eyes at him, getting a commiserating, amused smile in return. "Fine," Steve says, pulling out his wallet. "Go get your Kit Kat."

Danny almost asks him if he wants one, but decides not to push his luck, and wanders off to the chocolate aisle as Steve puts his credit card on the counter. He hears Steve's conversation with the clerk in the background, the bleeps of the credit card machine as he wagers between a regular and a dark Kit Kat, and the door opens, the bell above it tingling. 

The sound of the gunshot is deafening.

He ducks instinctively, bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling Steve's name, unholsters his gun as he hears a voice, male, yelling about wanting money. There's a murmured response he thinks might be the night clerk, and then he hears Steve. "Look, calm down, man, we're not doing anything. You'll get your money."

Danny lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Steve sounds okay, level, calm, not like he's been shot. He slowly creeps down the aisle, trying to get a visual. Steve is standing with his back to Danny, hands away from his body as he tries to be as unthreatening as he can be to the man holding the shotgun. White, about six feet, with a crew cut and a heavy jacket. The clerk is on his feet, opening the register and putting the money in a plastic bag. It doesn't look like there's much. 

The robber reaches for something on the counter, swipes it and pockets it, and Danny recognizes Steve's credit card. "Come on," he yells at the clerk, gun wavering from Steve to him and back, "where's all the cash? Don't keep anything back, I will kill you, man!"

If Danny steps out now, he risks getting shot, and he's not wearing a vest, but if he waits, the clerk or Steve might take a shotgun blast to the chest at short range, and they won't survive for sure. 

The perp wavers again, gun aimed squarely at Steve, and Danny curls his finger around the trigger of his Beretta, balances his weight, breathes deeply a few times. 

"Look," Steve says, clearly trying to mediate, "just take the money and the card, yeah?"

"Shut up!" He jams the gun against Steve's shoulder, and Danny can see Steve steel himself, stopping his ingrained reflexes. The gun moves back to aim at the clerk. "Get me the rest of the money, _now_."

"There's no more," the clerk replies, his voice wavering. "I swear, man, this is all."

Danny has to move now, and fast. He straightens up and steps out, aiming his gun as he yells, "Police, drop your weapon!"

The shotgun turns in his direction and Danny fires on instinct, two bullets into the guy's chest as he pulls the trigger on the shotgun, the blast ringing in Danny's ear. It hits the ceiling, sending glass and dust raining down on him, making his eyes water. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see Steve is moving, kicking the gun away and pressing his fingers to the guy's artery. He looks over his shoulder at Danny. "He's dead."

Danny breathes out a long breath, trying to think over the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Okay. Okay." He flexes his hand, slowly holsters his gun, looks at the guy behind the counter. "You all right? What's your name?"

"Tim Walters," he says, voice still shaking. He's white as a sheet, but a quick glance confirms he's unharmed. 

"Okay, Tim, sit down before you pass out."

Walters nods and sits, bending over to put his head between his legs. Danny focuses on Steve. "You okay, babe?"

"Yeah." Steve stands, slowly, and nods, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder. "You?"

"Yeah." Danny looks at the dead perp, the crew cut, the jacket, and has a sinking suspicion. "You can't be here."

Steve blinks. "What?" 

"You can't be here," Danny repeats. "I have to call this in, but even if I don't, someone will have heard the gunshots, and when the department shows up... Steve..."

"They'll call the Navy. _Fuck_."

"Go," Danny says. "Just go and I'll sort this out."

Steve glances at the clerk, who is looking from one to the other. 

"I won't say anything," Walters says. His voice is a little stronger, color returning to his face. "As far as I'm concerned, you were alone." He looks at Danny.

"Why would you do that?" Steve asks with a frown.

"Because we look out for each other."

Danny glances at the magazine still lying on the counter. _Out_ magazine, summer special edition. He nods slowly, looks at Steve. "Go."

Steve nods back, turns on his heel, avoiding the blood spreading in a pool on the floor as he picks his way out of the store, using his sleeve to wipe the door handle. He looks over his shoulder one last time and Danny meets his eyes, too little time or space to say anything.

Steve disappears into the night, and Danny focuses back on the clerk. "All right, Tim. This place got cameras?"

Walters nods. "I'll sort it."

"See that you do." Danny pulls out his cell phone and dials 911, giving his badge number and the particulars, asking for them to notify Captain Reynolds as well as the Brooklyn duty detectives. 

Walters comes back, pales a little when he sees the dead body on the floor again. "Uh..."

"What?"

"Your friend's card... he took it."

 _Steve's credit card_. Danny freezes, then leans over the body and searches the guy's pockets until he closes his fingers around the rectangular bit of plastic, wiping it clean of prints before sticking it in his own wallet.

The door opens with a tingle of the bell, and Danny's gun is half out of his holster before he recognizes NYPD uniforms. Their guns are out, so Danny lifts his coat to show the badge clipped to his belt. 

"You're Detective Williams?" one of them says. 

Danny nods. "That's me."

"I need you to surrender your gun."

"I know." Danny hands it over, glances once more at the dead perp, wondering how much of this is a coincidence. 

The other officer is talking to the desk clerk. "Anyone else here?"

"No, sir," Walters says, and Danny is glad to note he is a convincing liar. 

"Any witnesses?" they ask Danny, and Danny shakes his head.

\--

He repeats his story for what feels like a hundred times, first to the Brooklyn detectives, then to the shooting team from IA, and lastly to Reynolds. He tells them all the same thing; he'd been uptown, came back, got hungry, and went in for a snack. Steve must have taken the condoms and lube off the counter before the perp came in, because no one mentions them to him, and Steve's credit card stays safely in his wallet. 

Danny drums his fingers on the desk, hates this side of an interrogation room, hates being made to feel like a suspect. It's necessary and he's been here once before, but he doesn't have to like it. He wants to get up and pace, wants to pick up the phone and hear Steve's voice, wants to see Steve and wrap him in a hug until he can feel they're both alive and unharmed. 

"What were you doing in Brooklyn, Detective?" The guy from IA peers across the table. "You live in Weehawken."

"I'm flat-sitting for someone." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Look, call my partner, I was doing him a favor, okay? He'd covered a few times for me and I was saving him the trip. My wife's away, it was no skin off my back."

The IA guy glances at Captain Reynolds, who nods. "All right," the IA detective says at last. "You're free to go, Detective, but you'll need to tender your badge."

Danny knows the drill. He slips his badge off his belt, pulls his ID from his pocket and slides them both across the table. 

"You'll get them back after your mandatory three day suspension is up, provided the shooting team doesn't find anything."

Danny nods. He feels sketchy with exhaustion, would get angry if he didn't want to see Steve and his bed, in that order.

Reynolds sits down across from him when the door shuts behind IA. "You did good, Williams."

"Yeah." Danny sighs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he keeps replaying the whole scene, the gunshot, the terrified fear that Steve was hurt, Steve's voice, and the shotgun jammed into Steve's chest. His foot shakes under the table, and he forces it to stillness.

"You okay to drive home?"

"I'm fine, sir, but thanks. I'll take a cab."

"They'll clear you, Danny."

"Yeah." He stands and runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know."

\--

He drags himself up the flights of stairs to the apartment, knowing that Steve will be gone already, it being nearly six on the Monday morning. But when he inserts the key and turns the lock, it gives easily. 

"Steve?"

"Yeah, in here."

Danny follows his voice to the living room, to find Steve right there, eyes red rimmed as if he hasn't slept at all, pacing the floor. The bruises still marring his face stand out in stark relief against his pale skin, and his eyes bore into Danny's. 

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Danny says with a sigh. Then he crosses the room, pulls Steve in, feels Steve's arms wrap tightly around him. "Oh, jesus."

"Danny."

"Yeah." He holds on tight, too tight, buries his face against Steve's neck.

Steve's hand strokes slowly down his back. "It's okay."

"For now."

Pulling back a bit to look at him, Steve says, "You need to get some sleep."

Danny shakes his head. "Can't. Too wired."

"Come on." Steve tugs him along. "At least lie down."

"You should be somewhere else," Danny says as he follows.

Steve shakes his head. "That can wait."

"Oh, yeah? The Navy so considerate?"

"Don't worry about it." Steve pushes open the bedroom door and shoves Danny inside, and Danny glares at him, wanting to take offence, but he closes his mouth when Steve starts unbuttoning Danny's shirt. 

"I don't want to look gift horses in the mouth," Danny says, putting his hands over Steve's fingers, "but, babe, I'm not--"

"Ssh." Steve rubs a thumb over the back of Danny's hand. "Not where I'm going with this. Let me."

"Oh." It's kind of nice, though Danny will never admit it out loud, to be taken care of like this, and when he's stripped down to his underwear, he happily slides into bed, watching as Steve strips off his own clothes and joins him. "Are you sure you can stay?"

"Let me worry about that," Steve replies, pulling him close. 

Danny turns into Steve's embrace, feeling Steve's heart beat against his skin, and it pushes back the memory of gunshots, the replay in the back of his head. Steve's hand is rubbing over his skin and the rhythm is hypnotizing. "Don't do that again," Danny murmurs. 

Steve's hand stills. "Do what?"

"Nearly get shot at."

"I'll try," Steve replies drily. "Go to sleep, Danny."

Danny closes his eyes, feels the tension seep away as he listens to the sound of Steve's breathing.

\--

He wakes to the ringing of a phone, and Steve rolls away from him, reaching for it on the nightstand. He glances at the display and swears under his breath before answering it. 

"Sir." There's a pause. Then, "Yes, sir. No, I know. Yes."

Danny raises his eyebrows at Steve, who gives him a warning glance as he slips from the bed and leaves the room. Danny can hear his voice but not make out the words, and he pushes up, stretching a little. 

Steve walks back in. "I have to go."

"They pissed at you?"

"Something like that. It'll work out."

"Steve."

Steve glances over his shoulder as he dresses. "Really, Danny. Don't worry."

Danny nods, watches as Steve puts on his clothes, then sits up. "Come here."

Steve comes, and Danny pulls him in, kisses him hard, lingers a bit too long until Steve pulls back. "We're both okay, Danny."

"Yeah."

"I'll call you."

"Do that." Danny watches him go, a heavy weight sitting in his chest.

\--

He showers and shaves, picks up the phone and dials. To his surprise, it's Grace who answers. 

"Hey, monkey. How are you?"

"Daddy!" she chirps enthusiastically. "We're going to the zoo today!"

"That's great, baby." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to keep his tone light. "Is your mom around?"

"Yeah." He hears Grace call for Rachel, and a moment later, she comes on the line. "Daniel?"

"Hey."

"What's up?"

He sighs, sits down in a chair, gets up again and paces. He stays silent too long, because she speaks again. 

"Danny? What's wrong?"

"Why would something be wrong?"

"Because it's early in the morning over there. You don't usually call around this time. And I'm your wife; I can tell these things."

For a moment, he wishes she was right in front of him, wishes he could just pull her into his arms, her and Grace, know them both to be safe and with him and everything would be okay. It hurts, painfully, deep in his chest because just hours ago, he wanted Steve like that, and now... It's an impossible choice that he knows he has to make; cut a part of himself off forever, and the choice is rushing towards him. "Rachel."

"I'm right here."

"I... There was a shooting last night." He takes a deep breath, starts again. "I walked into a store robbery yesterday, I--"

"Are you all right?" she interrupts.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Rachel, I shot the guy."

"Oh, Danny, I'm so sorry."

"I killed him," Danny adds superfluously. 

Rachel breathes out slowly on the other end. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Danny--"

"I mean it, I'm fine. I'm on suspension and it feels like shit, but I'm okay."

"All right." 

They are both silent for a moment, then both start speaking at same time and stop. "You first," Danny says. 

"Do you need me to come home?"

"No, no, Rachel, don't be crazy. I'll see you in a week, I'm fine, seriously."

"Okay." After a pause, she adds, "Take care of yourself."

"You, too. Hug Gracie for me."

"I will. And I love you."

"I love you, too," Danny replies, and breaks the connection. He wipes a hand over his eyes and sits down hard.

\--

Trent shows up in the evening with a six pack and a thick file. "Which one of those is for me?" Danny jokes as he lets him in. 

Trent glances around. "Both. Where's your mystery lady?"

"Shut up," Danny replies, not even putting much bite into it. "Don't be a jerk."

Trent raises an eyebrow. "So she's not consoling you by letting you cry into her bosom?"

The image is momentarily absurd, and Danny snorts before shoving memories of Steve resolutely from his mind. "Hand me a beer, Massaro. Don't hog it all for yourself."

Beers in hand, Trent puts the file on the table. "Look, you okay, man? Because the captain told me, and, you know--" He makes an aborted gesture. 

"I'm fine," Danny says again. "Trent, don't worry about me. Tell me what you've got."

"Okay." He hands Danny the file. "This is the guy you took out."

Danny opens it, recognizes the mug shot on the cover page, remembers the guy dead at his feet, Steve looking at him as he's checking the guy's pulse, and he takes a slow, deep breath. 

"Ricky Cornell," Trent says, "aged 26. Suspected member of the 49ers. Convictions for misdemeanor weapons possession, minor assault, one arrest in a bar brawl that didn't stick. Suspected of bigger weapons offences, but they couldn't be proved so the ADA never went ahead with the case."

Danny glances over the guy's rap sheet. "Did he show up in our surveillance?"

"He's a member of Jarvis's gym. He was sighted going in and out of the building, but he had legitimate reason to be there and there's no way to prove he met with Jarvis personally while he was on the premises unless we find a witness."

Danny throws the file on the table. "So we have nothing."

"We have a connection between the 49ers and the robberies. That's something." Trent hesitates. "Look, Danny..."

"What?"

"Is it possible you were being followed?"

The sick sense of foreboding that had assaulted him at the time comes rushing back. "I don't know," he says after a moment, and the next second he's standing without remembering how he got up. "I gotta make a call."

"Okay..." Trent watches him. "Oh, shit, man. You weren't alone, were you?"

"Shut up," Danny says again, already reaching for his cell, thumbing out a quick message to Steve.

"The CCTV wasn't really down, was it? The guy gave us some line about forgetting to switch it on, but-- How did you get him to--"

" _Shut up_. Shut up, okay, just don't. You have no idea." 

Danny glares at Trent until he nods. "Okay, okay. I won't ask."

Danny's cell rings, and he answers, going to the kitchen and resolutely closing the door behind himself. "Steve."

Steve's voice is all business. "What's wrong?"

Danny runs a hand through his hair, relief flooding through him in spite of everything. "They think-- They think I may have been followed last night."

"Wait, what? Followed home? What are you talking about?"

"No. Followed to the store. That that's why it was robbed."

Steve is silent for a few beats. "I didn't see a tail."

"Were you looking?"

"Not actively," Steve replies, as if there are degrees in these things, and Danny suppresses a shudder. "The guy you took out, he's connected to Jarvis?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

"Yeah." Danny takes another breath. "Steve, you've got to-- you've got to promise me you'll be careful, okay? Because if they were following us--"

"I know."

They're both silent, and Danny stares at the kitchen wall. "When can I see you?"

"I can't get away for a while."

Danny smiles at that. "Got in trouble, huh?"

"Shut up."

Danny laughs out loud. "All right, call me."

"I will. And Danny..."

"Hmmm?"

"Be careful, too, okay? If they were targeting you, then--"

"I know," Danny replies. "I know, babe, I'll be careful."

When he goes back into the living room, Trent for once doesn't ask. He only says, "Everything okay?"

Danny nods. "It's fine." He sits back down and drinks half his bottle of beer. "This thing... them following me, it's a long shot, right?"

"There's no evidence," Trent replies. "It's just a theory."

"Good, because Grace and Rachel are coming home next week." Danny runs a hand through his hair. 

"What are you gonna do about this?" Trent gestures around the room, encompassing so much more than just the apartment. 

Danny shrugs. "I don't know, man. I know it's crazy, I just--"

"Can't stop?"

"Something like that." He sighs. He hasn't talked to anyone about this except Matt, and he knows what his brother would say if he asked for advice. "What would you do?"

"Is she worth it?"

Danny smiles wryly. "It's not that simple."

"She married too?"

"Something like that," Danny says again. The complexities of Steve's life don't let themselves be explained easily. 

Trent leans forward. "Do you love Rachel?"

"Yes." There's no question about that, about how much he loves Rachel and Grace. He should fight for his marriage, should fight to keep his daughter's home life together, should let go of what he feels for Steve. He grinds his palms into his eyes. "Okay, yes, I do. Fuck."

"Women are tough to deal with man, I get that."

Danny looks up. "Still you and Fiona?"

Trent nods. "She drives me crazy sometimes, you know?"

"But you love her."

"Yeah. Even on my bad days."

"Amen to that," Danny says, clinking his beer bottle to Trent's.

\--

Danny spends his three day suspension going over every file he's got again and adding all the information from Cornell's to his notes. It doesn't get him much closer, but it feels like he's doing something. He also runs up a phenomenal phone bill by spending hours on the phone with Grace, but he can't worry about money right now. 

When Steve calls, it almost takes him by surprise. "I can be over on Friday night," Steve says. 

"Yeah?" Danny rubs a hand over his eyes. Hearing Steve's voice opens a valve of longing in his heart, makes him want to forget everything he's been thinking for the past few days, and he knows that's a good enough reason right there. He loves Steve, too much to let him go, and that's why. "Okay."

"Everything okay, Danny?"

"Yeah, everything's fine." He feels like a worm again. "I'll see you Friday."

"Sure."

Steve ends the call, and Danny stamps on the impulse to throw his phone into the wall to watch it shatter.

\--

He returns to work, gets an all clear from IA, and when he holsters his gun and pockets his badge, it doesn't feel nearly as good as it should have. 

"Congratulations, Williams," Reynolds says, stopping at his desk. "By the book."

"Thank you, Captain." Danny sighs. "Wish it was more useful to the case, though."

Reynolds nods. "I know how you feel. But Narco says they picked up a lot of chatter lately, so someone woke up over in Bergen."

Danny longs to break this case; it's been going on too long. "Sounds good."

Reynolds claps a hand on his shoulder. "Go back to work, we'll get there."

Danny nods. "Yes, sir."

\--

He can't help pacing the apartment on Friday evening, waiting for Steve to arrive. There is no easy way to do this, and every other second he wants to change his mind. His heart is squeezing in his chest, and then the lock turns and Steve walks in. 

He takes one look at Danny. "What's wrong?"

"It's not--"

"Don't tell me it's nothing." Steve rounds the table and grabs his shoulder. "What's wrong, Danny? Tell me."

Danny takes a deep breath. "Calm down, Steve. Hey." He takes Steve's hand off his shoulder, squeezes Steve's fingers. "I'm okay. Nothing's happened, I promise."

Steve narrows his eyes. "Then why are you looking like that?"

"Because I need to talk to you." 

Danny meets his gaze, and Steve takes a step back, pulls his hand free. "Danny..."

"I'm sorry," Danny says slowly, "I can't see you anymore."

Steve breathes out. "Why?"

Danny watches as the mask slides in place on Steve's face, feels his heart break. "I don't want to do this, Steve, I really don't. But I have to-- I'm married and I've got to give that a chance. Do you understand? My daughter, I can't do this to her, and I can't do it to my wife. This went on too long."

"Yeah." Steve nods. "Okay."

"Yeah, okay? That's it?"

Steve shrugs. "What do you want me to say, Danny?"

Danny lets his head hang, stares at his shoes before looking back at Steve. "I don't know." He runs a hand through his hair. "Steve..."

"What?" Steve snaps abruptly. His eyes have a shine to them that is tearing at Danny's heart. 

He gestures helplessly. "This has no future. I care about you, but I can't do this if..."

"Yeah." Steve rubs a hand over his mouth. "Yeah, I get it, Danny."

"I love you," Danny says, words slipping out of his mouth. "Somewhere along the way I fell in love with you, and if I don't walk away now, I'll never walk away, Steve, you understand?" 

"Danny..." Steve says, and trails off. 

Danny meets his eyes, sees the telltale red and the way Steve is blinking, and finally just moves, gathers Steve up in an embrace and buries his face against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Steve's voice wavers. "Danny..."

"I didn't expect you to happen," Danny whispers. "And I want you to be happy, and you won't be happy with me, babe, not like this."

"Danny," Steve says for the third time, and pulls back enough to find Danny's mouth, and Danny kisses back, pours the desperation and heartbreak into the kiss. 

"Stay tonight," he says against Steve's lips. "Maybe I'm crazy, if I am, just tell me, babe, but--"

"I'll stay." Steve looks at him. "Danny, I-- I understand, okay?"

Danny squeezes his eyes shut at that, feels Steve kiss his skin. "Thanks."

"I-- I guess I knew it was coming."

Danny blinks open his eyes. "We both did."

"Yeah." Steve takes a deep breath, looks over Danny's shoulder at the wall. "Yeah, we did."

\--

When he has Steve naked in front of him, tattoos curving over his skin, faded bruises nearly gone, he almost says, _forget about it all_ , but he knows he can't, not any more, that if he wants a chance at his marriage with Rachel, at keeping Grace's home intact and being there for his daughter, he has to do this. 

He reaches out, slides his hand up Steve's arm, pulls him in and presses his mouth to the tattoo on Steve's shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you so much."

Steve makes a strangled sound, doesn't reply, just fits his hand around Danny's hip and buries his nose in Danny's hair. Danny slides a hand up Steve's head and runs fingers over his scalp, and Steve shudders. 

"It's okay," Danny says, trying not to let his breaking heart pull him under, trying not to let the feeling of Steve breaking apart in his arms tear him to pieces. 

Steve's mouth wanders over his skin, finds Danny's, and the kiss is hard and unforgiving, and Danny understands that, gives as good as he gets. He lets Steve walk him over to the bed, lets himself be pressed into the sheets, understands when Steve straddles him why Steve needs to be in control. 

Steve looks down at him with unreadable eyes, and Danny burns the memory into his brain, everything to take with him against the future. 

"Danny," Steve says, voice strangled.

"Yeah, babe."

"Don't call me that." Steve runs a hand up Danny's chest, to his shoulder, down his arm. "Just don't."

"Okay." Danny's heart clenches in his chest, but he has no more claim to Steve, nothing, not now. "What do you want, Steve?"

"I want _you_."

 _You have me. You'll always have me_. Danny knows, crystal clear, that this is the moment that will define them, this is what will define him; whatever else he does in his life, Steve McGarrett will be what he couldn't have, what a corner of his heart will long for. "Steve..."

"Yeah." Steve leans in, kisses him fiercely, and Danny pulls him down, onto his chest, for the last time. He blinks at the tears he can feel behind his eyelids, meets Steve's gaze and sees the anger mixed with the hurt Danny put there. 

"Whatever you need," Danny offers.

\--

When he wakes, it's raining, and he stares at the rivulets sliding down the window. Steve is asleep, head tucked against Danny's shoulder, and he knows he has to tear himself away. 

Nothing about this is easy, but Danny has to do it. 

He sits up slowly, and Steve stirs, rolling away from him. Danny meets his eyes, and he sees the shuttered expression on Steve's face. "You want to shower first?"

"Sure." Steve slides out of bed, and Danny tries not to look, not to watch him as he gathers his clothes and disappears into the bathroom.

Danny stares at the ceiling, drags himself from the bed and turns on the coffee maker, drinks a cup while he waits for Steve to be done. When Steve comes into the kitchen, he avoids Danny's eyes. "Bathroom's free."

"Thanks," Danny manages, and walks himself through his morning routine, numb. 

Steve is still in the kitchen, staring into his coffee, packed duffel sitting at his feet. Danny looks at it, searches his mind for something to say. "You have everything?"

Steve looks up. "Yeah."

"I--" Danny has no more words, nothing that he hasn't said already. 

Steve stands. "I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah." The finality of Steve's words slice through him, and Danny pauses. "Steve."

Steve peers at him suspiciously. "What?" 

Danny holds his eyes. "Don't get killed."

"It's not your concern any more, Danny."

"No," Danny admits, even as his mind protests. "But... Stay safe."

"Yeah." Steve nods, runs a hand through his hair. "You, too."

On an impulse, Danny adds, "Find someone. Someone who you can be with, who can love you, who makes you happy. You deserve that, babe."

Steve winces at the term of endearment. "Danny--"

Danny waves it off, gestures at him. "I know you're mad at me, I get it. But one day, you know, when you don't feel like killing me so much anymore, think about it. You deserve more than one night stands in hotel rooms, Steve."

Steve swallows. "I've got to go." Danny nods, watches as Steve picks up his bag. Steve hesitates for a brief second, then looks at him one last time. "Take care of yourself."

"Yeah," Danny says, flailing mentally at everything, "yeah, you, too, babe."

Steve walks from the room without another word, and the door slams shut.

\--

He packs up and goes home, and can't stand the empty house, the silent walls, any of it. He has no right to this mourning, but it's sitting in his chest anyway, a heavy weight of loss that he can't shake; the memory of Steve's face behind his eyelids. 

He ends up getting in his car and driving, winding up in front of Matt's door because he has nowhere else to go. 

"Hey, bro." Matt frowns. "Okay, what's up? Rachel staying in England longer?"

Danny shakes his head. "No."

"Okay..." Matt leads him to the kitchen, uncaps two bottles of beer, and leans against the counter. "So spill."

Danny opens his mouth, closes it again, and finally just sighs. Then he says, "I ended the affair. I know it was stupid, okay? I couldn't stop, he just-- I love him, and I don't know how the fuck that happened, but I can't-- I just can't do this anymore."

Matt blinks. "Danny, bro, hey. You did the right thing."

"Yeah." Danny takes a deep breath. "So why do I feel like shit?" Matt makes a face, doesn't say anything, and Danny nods. "Point taken."

Matt winces a bit. "Look, no judgment, okay? I'm glad you put a stop to it, and if you want to get drunk and crash on my couch, no problem."

Danny thinks it might just fill the hollow space inside. "Sounds like a plan."

Matt frowns, but finally nods. "Let's go, then."

\--

Danny drives through the early Jersey traffic to the airport, thinks about seeing his wife and daughter again, can't help but drum his fingers on the steering wheel in impatience. It's been a rough weekend and he feels a little less than human, but he's got the rest of his life to look forward to, a renewed chance to make things work with Rachel, to be there for Gracie. 

He waits for them at the gate, and when Grace sees him she starts wriggling, tugging on Rachel's arm, and Rachel finally lets her go, smiling at Danny through the glass. 

"Danno!" Grace comes bounding out, flies into his arms, and Danny scoops her up and squishes her to his chest. 

"Hey, monkey." He buries his nose in her hair for a moment. "Good to have you back. Did you have fun?"

"There were horses, Daddy," Grace starts, leaning back, "and we went to the aquarium. They have strange stores."

Rachel joins them, tucking away her passport and smiling at Danny. "Hello, Daniel."

Danny shifts Gracie to his hip and leans in to kiss her, lingering when she kisses him back. "Hey, honey. Have a good flight?"

"Yes." She smiles. "Though this one got a little excited."

"I was sick," Grace interjects, making a face. "I didn't like it."

Danny hugs her a second time, takes some of the bags Rachel is dragging and leads them to the car. "Yeah, monkey? You don't like flying?"

"It's strange," Grace decides, and rests her head on his shoulder. Danny kisses her hair and looks at Rachel, and she meets his eyes and smiles again.

\--

Grace falls asleep midway through the afternoon, and Danny puts her to bed. Rachel is yawning when he comes back downstairs, and smiles at him. "Sorry."

Danny grins back. "How was your trip?"

"It was good." She nods, tracing a finger over the rim of her teacup. "How were things here? Apart from--" She makes a gesture.

"Fine. I worked a lot." Danny can feel a twinge of guilt, but the lie comes easier than he expected. 

"Okay." Rachel sips her tea. "I missed you while I was over there. I don't know..." She trails off. 

Danny leans across the table. "Rachel, I've been thinking."

"What?"

"I want this to work. Us. I don't want-- I don't want to just give it up, I want to fight." He hesitates. "Look, maybe you were over there and it felt--" he swallows "--it felt right to be without me, I don't know, but--" He gestures aimlessly. "I want you to know where I stand."

She nods. "I appreciate your honesty, Daniel." It's not an answer and he bites down on the impulse to say so. She brushes her hair out of her face. "I did have a lot of time to think, and I spoke with my mother; don't look at me like that, Danny, she's not that bad."

 _The woman hates me_ , Danny thinks, but doesn't say. 

"I don't know," Rachel continues, "if we can save our marriage. I-- don't think I say this lightly, Danny, I love you and I want this to work, but..."

"I know." He does, truly, understand how far apart they've drifted the last few years. 

"Saying we want it to work isn't the answer. Things would have to change. We-- we have to stop fighting in front of Grace, for starters."

"Yes," Danny agrees. 

"And stop working so much." She holds up a hand. "I know neither of us has a job where that's easy. But we have to try, Danny."

Danny runs a hand through his hair, feels as tired as Rachel looks. "Okay. All right."

"We don't have to talk about it now," Rachel offers.

"Okay," Danny says again, feeling lost for words. He feels hollow inside; there's a space she can't fill and it hurts something fierce, still. "Rachel..."

"Hmmm?"

"Let's go to bed."

She raises an eyebrow. "Danny, it's three in the afternoon and I just spent ten hours on a plane."

"Not like that." Danny gestures. "Just... I'm tired."

She stands, slowly, puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in to kiss his hair. "Are you all right, Danny?"

"Yeah." The lie stings in his mouth. "Just tired, Rachel."

"All right, bed it is."


	9. Chapter 9

When Rachel kisses him awake and straddles him he slides his arms around her gratefully, doesn't find himself wishing she was someone else, and it makes his choice the right one, no matter how much it still hurts. Rachel is warm and alive and beautiful, the mother of his daughter and the love of his life, and Danny kisses her skin as he strips her clothes, whispers how much he loves her into her hair. 

"I love you, Daniel," Rachel says back, and Danny closes his eyes. 

Afterwards, she settles against his side and it's barely in time, because the door opens and Grace comes bounding in, and they exchange a look before starting to laugh. 

"Hey, Gracie." Danny lifts her up and settles her next to him. "Sleep well?"

"I'm hungry," Grace announces, looking from one to the other, wide awake and curious. "What's so funny, mommy?"

Rachel smothers her laughter. "It's nothing, sweetheart."

Danny is grinning from ear to ear, and she punches his arm. He gives her a mock hurt look and says, "Look what your mother is doing to me, monkey."

"Mommy, you shouldn't hit people!" 

Grace looks appropriately scandalized, and Rachel schools her face into something resembling seriousness. "Of course not, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"You can kiss it and make it better," Danny says with a twinkle in his eye, and he can tell she wishes she could get away with hitting him a second time.

"Why don't you go get dressed and go downstairs," Rachel says to Grace. "Your father and I will be right there to make you dinner."

"Okay, mommy." Grace bounces off the bed and rushes out the door, and Danny laughs, leaning over to Rachel so he can kiss her again. 

"We have a daughter to feed, Daniel."

"Yeah," he replies, but steals another kiss anyway, and Rachel slides a hand down his chest, neither of them wanting to pull away. In the end, Danny manages to tear himself from her sleep-warm body and their bed, and her dark, smoldering gaze follows him around the room. "You are evil," he accuses.

Rachel smiles innocently. 

\--

He wakes up at an ungodly hour in the morning because his phone is ringing, and for one brief, disorienting moment, he thinks he's in bed with Steve. 

"It's yours," Rachel murmurs, dropping the offending phone right by his ear. 

"Jesus," Danny says, sitting up. He struggles to actually be awake, answers the call. "What?"

"Cornell's girlfriend is dead," Trent says on the other end. 

"What?" Danny rubs a hand over his face. "How?"

"Shot in her apartment sometime after midnight. The captain wants us to go out to Bergen."

"Okay. I'll be right there." Danny hangs up, takes a few deep breaths before switching on the light. 

"Danny?"

"I've got to go in to work." He reaches for his clothes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Rachel says, giving him a tentative smile. 

"You sure? Can you take Grace to school?"

"Yes." Rachel holds out a hand, and Danny leans in for a kiss. "Don't worry."

Danny nods, puts his clothes on. "I'll try to be home at a decent hour."

"Okay."

He looks in on Grace briefly, sleeping soundly, and leaves the house.

\--

"What have we got?" Putting on gloves is second nature, after he entered the crime scene and had his name taken down by the officer standing guard at the door. 

There's a woman sitting in a chair in the middle of the living room, a bullet hole point blank in her forehead. Her brain matter is splattered all over the pale blue wall behind her. 

Danny stands in the doorway for a moment, hearing but not processing Trent's answer. He shakes his head. "Sorry, again?"

"Meet Donna Jenkins, aged 26, former girlfriend of the recently deceased Ricky Cornell."

Danny looks at her; her blond hair is hanging in streaks around her face. She's pretty, or she would have been when alive, and he wonders what the hell she saw in a low life like Ricky Cornell. "Any witnesses?"

Trent consults his notes. "Couple on the first floor heard a loud noise they presumed to be a gunshot at about three in the morning and called 911. Lady across the landing is pretty deaf, but remembers Jenkins as polite, her boyfriend ditto."

"Apparently it pays to be nice to your neighbors."

"It doesn't," Trent says, making Danny look up. "She remembers he brought a friend over some nights. Said friend was hanging around the building when she was walking her dog at about eleven last night."

"Please tell me," Danny says slowly, "that you have an ID."

Trent shakes his head, but smiles. "Description she gave matches Jonas Mason."

"Jarvis's right hand man." Danny whistles through his teeth. "Think we can get her to do a line-up?"

"Boys in blue are picking Mason up as we speak."

"You, my friend, can stay," Danny says with a grin.

\--

They formally arrest Jonas Mason mid-afternoon, and Danny watches as he is brought down to booking, grins with satisfaction as he hears Mason ask for a lawyer. 

"You want to get him to flip on Jarvis, don't you?" Trent glances sideways at him. "I don't know, man, I doubt you can."

"I'll do my best," Danny promises softly. 

\--

Mason's smile is thin and predatory. Sometimes, the bad guys look like they do in the movies; instantly recognizable as scum. Danny takes a seat across from him, nods at Mason's attorney, a young woman in a business suit, and clears his throat. 

"I'm Detective Danny Williams." He watches as Mason's smile twitches, knows his name hit home. "I've got good news and bad news for you, Jonas."

The attorney clears her throat. "Detective, my client--"

"Your client," Danny interrupts, looking at her, "has just been positively identified by a witness as loitering outside a building where a murder was committed. We've also established that said murder was committed only a brief time after the victim returned home, suggesting your client, whom we know knew your client through her boyfriend, recently deceased, followed her into the building and shot her."

"That's circumstantial evidence."

"I don't think a jury will see it that way." Danny turns away from her, looks at Mason again. "What do you think, Jonas? You know we'll find the gun. And if not, that we'll tie the gun to some other crime, and it'll all come out. You're going away for life; murder one."

Mason shifts in his seat, sniffs. "Whatever, man."

"Very eloquent," Danny comments. "Of course, if you help me, I might be able to help you."

"What's on the table, Detective?"

The attorney is smarter than her client. Danny smiles. "Jonas rolls on his boss, Jake Jarvis, and we could have him out in, say, ten years."

"No way." Mason's voice sounds shaky, and he runs his fingers under his nose, a nervous habit. "No way, man, I'm dead."

Danny has very little sympathy for him right now. "Why did you kill her, Jonas? Was she threatening to talk?"

Mason rubs his fingers over his upper lips again. "Look, man, I'll do a deal, okay, but not Jake. I ain't taking down Jake; he'll kill me."

"Did Jarvis order you to kill her?"

Mason leans forward, looks Danny straight in the eye. "It wasn't like that, man. Fuck, okay, look, I'll give you the guys, yeah, the robberies, that's why you're here right, because they got you? I know who it was, okay. I can give you names. I know who did the robberies, too, not just Ricky."

Danny feels anger building in his chest, his leg twinging in memory. "You know who it is because you told them to do it, Jonas?" He stands, leaning across the table. "Tell me who they were."

The attorney is watching him nervously, but Danny doesn't pay her any attention. This is between him and Mason. 

"Look, man, no, I didn't order it. I won't tell you, okay. Just their names. And the guys who did the robberies."

Danny clenches his hands to fists. "No deal. Give me Jarvis."

There's a perfunctory knock on the door, and Reynolds steps in. "Detective, a word."

Danny knows as he follows him out, slams his hand against the wall. "Don't. Just don't say it."

"We won't get another chance."

Trent is hovering nearby, looking shifty, and Danny knows who's to blame for getting Reynolds down to interrogation. He gives Trent a look, which Trent meets head on. Danny glares before turning back to Reynolds. "Captain, I can get him to roll on Jarvis."

"He's offering to give us enough to put half of the 49ers away," Reynolds says, sounding so reasonable Danny wants to smash his fist into the captain's face. "If we get Jarvis, the next guy takes over. This way, we can take them off the street."

"I want Jarvis."

Reynolds nods. "I know you do, Williams. But this is our best option."

"If we just lean on him some more," Danny argues, "let me go back in there, let me talk to him, I can flip him."

"What you're going to do is alienate him some more."

Danny clenches his fists. "Jarvis ordered the hit on Cornell's girlfriend! We all know it, come on."

"Danny..."

He looks at Trent. "What, Massaro? You got a better idea all of a sudden?"

"We put away the guys who got you, and we end the robberies, crippling Jarvis's business. Come on, it's a good deal for all sides."

"Yeah." Danny sighs. "Fuck that."

Reynolds shakes his head. "I'm calling the ADA down here to hammer out a deal."

"Fuck you," Danny replies, and walks out.

\--

He walks outside with his cell phone in his hand, and when he scrolls through the menu, he hovers over Steve's name. His heart clenches in his chest, and he takes a long, deep breath before scrolling back up to Rachel and pressing call. 

"Danny?"

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

She doesn't miss much, does Rachel, and it makes him smile in spite of everything. "I needed to hear your voice."

"Is everything okay?" There are noises in the background, phones ringing and people talking, and it reminds him that she has a career and a job and things he knows nothing about. 

"Everything's fine," he says, even though it isn't, even though he wants to tell her what happened, just to be able to yell at someone, he holds it in. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Danny. Are you sure--"

"I'm sure," he interrupts. "Don't worry, Rachel, I'll see you tonight."

"Okay." 

"I love you."

"Love you, too." She cuts the connection, and Danny slams his fist against the wall in frustration.

\--

Trent finds him, offers him a mug of coffee, and Danny looks blearily at it. 

"I can get you something stronger," Trent says. 

"Yeah." Danny grabs his coat off the back of the chair. "Let's hit Ariana's."

"This early in the day?"

"They're open," Danny replies with a glance at his watch. 

"Yeah, but--"

"No but. Let's go."

\--

The bar is practically deserted, only the hardcore drinkers dotted around the place. Ariana sends a smile in their direction and opens two bottles of beer with a practiced hand, bringing them over to their table. 

"Morning, boys."

"Hey. Thanks." Danny accepts the bottle and downs half of it, ignores her raised eyebrow and Trent's dubious expression. 

"I'll leave you to it; wave if you need something."

"You got it." Trent watches her ass as she walks back to the bar. "I'd do that."

"Yeah," Danny says absently, then parses what Trent said. "Jerk."

"Whatever. Come on, you would." Trent drinks some beer, leans across the table. "What's she like?"

"Who, Ariana? How would I know?"

"Not her. The chick you got on the side."

Danny blinks, makes an absent gesture. "Did I or did I not tell you to shut up about that, huh? What's the matter with you?"

Trent holds up a hand. "Hey, man..."

"Anyway, I broke it off."

"What did you do that for?"

Danny gives him a look. "Why do you think? You think I wanna risk my marriage for something that has no future? I let it go on too long."

"Yeah, but--"

"No buts, Massaro." Danny finishes his bottle, catches Ariana's eye to signal for a second one. "I love my wife. I love my daughter. And yeah, so maybe I love someone else too, but that doesn't mean..." Danny runs a hand through his hair. "Why would I hurt her like that?"

Ariana puts a second bottle on the table, giving Danny a brief glance, and he shakes his head. He doesn't want her concern right now. 

"Look, man, I don't know, okay? It's not like I'm the poster guy for relationships."

"How's that going, anyway?" Danny takes a sip of his second bottle, reminds himself to slow down. "You and Fiona sort things out?"

"Kind of." Trent shrugs. "I don't know, man, I just do my best, you know? If that's not good enough for her, she can go get it somewhere else."

Danny nods, turns the bottle on the coaster, is hit briefly by a memory; Steve's fingers sliding over the dark glass of a beer bottle. He closes his eyes for a short second. "Yeah, I hear you."

"Anyway, what are we going to do about Jarvis?"

"I'd like to kick his face in," Danny replies. His hand closes in a fist. "Just watch his nose break under my hand."

"Yeah." Trent nods, sipping some more beer. "Yeah, that'd be good."

"But," Danny adds, "I'd like to send him away for life, if at all possible. Because he killed Vasquez, as good as, and he ordered the hit on Cornell's girlfriend, you know he did."

"Yeah," Trent says again. "And the attack on you."

"And that," Danny replies with a dismissive gesture. He sighs. "Okay, we're going to have to keep at this, because right now, it looks like they are happy to put the 49ers away and let Jarvis walk. Which is going to happen over my dead body."

"And mine," Trent adds, clinking his bottle against Danny's. "And mine, man."

\--

He gets home and Rachel is already there, cooking dinner in the kitchen while Grace is coloring at the kitchen table. Danny feels the tightness in his chest lessen at the sight of his family, Rachel's fond smile and Grace's excited eyes as she looks up at him. He leans in to kiss her hair. 

"That looks great, monkey. What is it?"

"It's mommy and me and the horses, Daddy."

"Of course it is." Danny manages to make out a brown blob that he assumes must be a horse, and grins at Rachel. "Hey."

"Hi," she says, and leans in for a kiss. "How was your day?"

He glances at Grace. "Later. Yours?"

"Busy." 

He takes her in for a moment and sees she is as tired as he feels. "Why don't you go sit down, I'll finish this."

"Thank you." 

She kisses his cheek as she switches the kettle on, and sits down next to Grace. Danny lets the sound of their voices lull him into a false sense of relaxation, stirs the sauce and flips the hamburgers in the pan without thinking much about it. 

The memory of the Brooklyn apartment, Steve kissing the back of his neck as Danny leant against him, so easy and casual, takes his breath away for a moment, makes the world spin with want and hurt for a few seconds. He takes a deep breath, tries to slow his heartbeat, lets Rachel's voice behind him be the soothing balm that he needs for the torn wounds in his chest. 

_You did it to yourself, Williams_.

He hurt Steve; he would have hurt Rachel and Grace more if he'd continued. But knowing it's the right choice doesn't stop the pain. 

"Danny?"

Rachel's tone suggests she's said his name more than once; he turns quickly. "Sorry, what?"

"Do you want to be in the picture too, Danno?"

Grace's dark eyes blink up at him, and he watches her crayon hover over an empty spot on the paper. "Of course, monkey. I'd be honored."

Rachel stands up, puts a hand on his shoulder. "Everything okay, Danny?"

He shakes his head. "Rachel--"

"Later, okay. I know." They both look at Grace, bent over her paper and coloring diligently, tongue peeking out of her mouth in concentration. "I love you," Rachel says, and Danny has to lean in and kiss her. 

\--

By the time Grace is in bed and settled and the dishes are done and everything is ready for the next day, it's nearing nine. Danny sags down on the couch, stretches out and watches as Rachel packs her bag for the morning. 

"Work busy today?" he says. 

She looks over her shoulder. "Things are just shaking out, but it's keeping us on our toes."

"Shaking out? You said that months ago, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I guess it's taking longer than we all thought." Rachel brushes her hair from her face. "It's nothing to worry about, Danny."

"Why are you telling me that? Who says I'm worried? Should I be worried, Rach?"

She pauses. "I don't know, Danny. At first it didn't look like much, but profit margins are dropping and they're not climbing back up. Everyone keeps thinking it'll shake out, but--"

Danny sits up. "But what?"

"Some people are saying we're heading for a crisis."

"Surely the company knows which?"

Rachel bites her lip. "Not the company, Danny, the economy."

"Bullshit." Danny leans back against the couch. "Everything's fine."

"Yes." Rachel closes her bag with a decisive click and comes over to sit next to him. "What happened this morning?"

Danny sighs, and tells her. "I want to kill this guy, Rachel, I swear, I've never wanted to kill someone so bad in my entire life."

"Danny..."

"Yeah, I know. But I can't just let him walk away, you know, I've got to do something. This is not just about me, it's about everyone, that girl he had killed, the drugs, the guns..."

Rachel sighs. "Danny, you can't fix everything."

"I know that!" He can't help getting up and pacing, gesturing, looking for words. "I know, Rachel, I know, but I can't let this one go, I just can't."

"Look, the American justice system isn't perfect--"

"The American justice system? What, like the British do it all better? What is this, you go over there for a few weeks, and suddenly everything here is bad, huh?"

"Danny, that's not what I was saying, I just--"

Danny points a finger at her. "That's not what you were saying? Tell me, Rachel, what were you saying, because it sounded an awful lot like it."

She stands up, hand on her hip. "Look, if you'd let me _finish_ , you know how I feel about guns and violence around here. Do you want me to pretend I'm happy about Grace growing up around weapons and crime?"

"Growing up around-- Whoa, what? This is a decent neighborhood, there are no guns here, okay? My daughter is not constantly surrounded by criminals, what is going on in that head of yours, jesus?"

" _Our_ daughter," Rachel replies, voice clipped. 

Danny gestures at her. "Our daughter, yes, fine, you could be a little more supportive of her father."

She stares at him. "When have I done anything but support you? I've spent half this marriage not complaining when you come home late, get called out of bed, end up in hospital; I've watched you go half crazy with frustration some days, and I've been here, _right here_ , Daniel, standing by your side. Don't you dare talk to me like that!"

It takes the wind out of Danny's sails, and he freezes in place. "Rachel..."

"What?" she snaps. 

"I--" Danny stops and turns away, making a half hearted gesture and unable to find words. "I take care of you and I take care of Grace, and I'll keep you both safe."

"I never said you didn't."

"But you don’t want to live here."

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying, Rachel? Because it sounds like you wish you could take Grace to England and everything will be hunky dory."

She pushes her hair out of her face. "Don't put words in my mouth, Daniel."

"I'm not!" Danny sighs in frustration. "I-- Why are we fighting about this?"

"I don't know," she replies testily. "I'm not the one who started yelling."

"I didn't--"

"Yes, you did." She holds up a hand. "Fine, let's just not talk about it anymore."

"Fine." Danny breathes out slowly. "I'm going to lock up."

She nods. "Okay. I'll go up."

Danny watches her go, wonders how they ended up here so fast.

\--

When he wakes it's to the sound of Gracie yelling and Rachel yelling back. Danny rolls out of bed and stumbles from the room, finding his wife and daughter in Grace's bedroom, arguing over a sweater. 

"You will wear it," Rachel demands, and Grace shakes her head violently. 

"I don't want it!"

"Whoa, whoa, what's going on here?"

Rachel looks over her shoulder, her eyes red rimmed, and Danny feels his heart clench. "She won't put on her sweater."

"I don't want it," Grace repeats, stamping her foot. 

It's a full fledged tantrum all right, and Danny can feel a headache starting behind his eyes. He rubs a hand over his face. 

"It's going to be colder today, I want her to wear the sweater," Rachel says. 

"Okay." Danny puts a hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you go downstairs and get breakfast ready, and I'll deal with this?"

She nods, giving him a relieved smile. "All right."

He waits till she's gone before turning to his daughter. "What's wrong with the sweater, monkey?"

"I don't--"

"--want it, yes, you said." Danny puts the sweater aside and picks her up, twisting out of the way when she flails and nearly kicks him. "Hey, careful with your dad, jesus." He deposits her on the bed. "Okay, so, the way I see this you have two options. You can sit here and not put the sweater on, and I'll sit here and be very angry with you, or you can put the sweater on and make both me and your mom very happy, and we can go off to school and work like normal people. Which will it be?"

She glares at him. "I hate you."

Danny clutches his chest. "You wound me, monkey." She peeks at him from under her eyelashes. "Well," Danny argues, "how would you feel if I said that to you?"

Grace mumbles something. 

"What was that?"

"I'm sorry, Danno."

Danny manages a smile. "All right, give me a kiss."

She leans in and dutifully kisses his cheek. 

"You gonna put your sweater on?"

"I don't like that one."

Danny holds up the sweater in all its pink glory with rainbows plastered all over the front. "No? But pink is your favorite color. What's wrong with this one?"

"The rainbows are ugly."

"The rainbows are ugly. Of course, this is a crime against fashion. Let's see what else we've got then." He rummages around her closet, comes up with a purple number with My Little Ponies on them. "Will this suffice, milady?"

Grace holds out her hands, and Danny slides the sleeves onto her arms, letting her pull it over her head herself. He lifts her hair out from under the collar and smiles. "Now, next time, you ask for a different sweater, you don't yell at your mom, okay?"

"Okay, Danno."

"Good. Now, if I give you a lift downstairs, will you say sorry and give your mom a hug? Because I think she deserves one, don't you?"

Grace nods, biting her lip. 

Danny picks her up and carries her down the stairs, where Grace dutifully does as she's told.

\--

"The warrants are in," Trent says to him as soon as he gets into work. 

Danny raises an eyebrow at him, Trent strapping on a bullet proof vest. "We going with?"

Reynolds stops at their desks. "You good with going, Williams?"

"Never said I wasn't, Captain."

"Then suit up, we're going in five minutes."

"You got it." Danny is already reaching for his own vest, listening with half an ear to the briefing about where they're going and what they're going to do. He knows the area already, has been there what feels like a hundred times over the last few months. He exchanges a brief glance with Trent, who nods back. 

In the car, Danny looks through the paperwork. "An arrest warrant for everyone but Jarvis. They've got a fucking search warrant for his gym, but they don't issue a warrant for his arrest? What the fuck is wrong with these people?"

"ADA doesn't think he can make it stick. And then it'll look like persecution or something."

"Of course it'll look like persecution! I'm fucking persecuting the guy, jesus." Danny rubs his forehead and sighs. He could do with a painkiller right about now, his headache is coming on full force.

"We'll get him, Danny. We'll flip someone, we'll find something, he's got to slip up somewhere."

But they both know it, Danny knows, that after this there will be no more surveillance, no more dogging every step Jarvis makes, they'll close the case because the gang will be behind bars. "I hate my life," Danny announces, and stares out the window.

\--

The 49ers' gym is still the same dingy rooms with chipped paint and bad smell that Danny remembers, and the members are rounded up, ID'ed and some arrested, others turned loose and told to go away. They turn the place upside down, but it's clean, nothing there. 

Jarvis leans against the wall, right under his Confederate flag, and smirks as they do their search. "Careful you don't damage anything," he says, "or I'll have to call my lawyer."

Danny sneers at him. "What does an upstanding citizen like yourself need a lawyer for?"

"Protection from people like you," Jarvis replies. 

Danny clenches his hands to fists but doesn't respond, focuses on the search instead. The members' lockers are all emptied, and some substances are found that might be drugs, one gun, a few knives.

"You run a really clean gym here."

Jarvis raises an eyebrow. "I'm not responsible for what the members do."

"No, see, I think you are." Danny can sense Trent stepping up to his shoulder, providing silent back up. "I think you tell them exactly what to do and where to go."

"Interesting fantasy you have, Detective."

Danny points a finger at him. "We will get you. It's just a matter of time. So don't get to comfortable."

Jarvis only grins.

\--

"Well, it's something, isn't it?" Rachel says when he tells her. "I mean, you didn't get this guy, but you got his gang, that's pretty good."

"Pretty good?" Danny echoes. "No, it's not pretty good, he'll just do it again, and he'll--"

"Danny, I know this one's personal, I understand, but--"

"No buts," Danny snaps. "This is not up for debate, I want this guy in prison, paying for what he did."

"I know you do." Rachel puts her hand on his arm and he almost shakes it off. "I'm sorry, Danny."

He takes a deep breath, stares at his feet for a moment. Everything should be easier. He closes his eyes, reaches out blindly and folds Rachel into his arms. She comes willingly. 

"Daniel..."

"I know."

"No." She pulls back to look at him. "I worry about you."

"It's nothing, Rachel, I'm fine."

"Are you?" Her eyes meet his and she doesn't back down. "I don't know what's going on with you, Danny, but lately you've been... absent, off, I don't know."

Guilt crawls in his stomach for a second, and he pushes it down deep along with a threatening memory of Steve. "It's nothing, Rachel, it's just been a long summer, I'm fine."

She nods, biting her lip. "Okay."

Danny leans in to kiss her, softly, because he can and she's right here. She smiles against his mouth. "What?" Danny says with a frown. 

Rachel's smile widens. "You are not subtle, Daniel."

"Never claimed I was."

"Go on up, then, and I'll just finish the dishes and lock up."

"Deal."

\--

He's already taken off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt when he hears her voice, low but clear as she calls up the stairs. "Danny?"

He sticks his head out the bedroom door. "Hmm?" 

"Could you come down here for a second?"

There's something about her tone that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, like she's suppressing her worries to keep him calm, not to wake Grace. He walks down the stairs quickly, meets her in the hallway. Her eyes are large and scared, and he reaches for her on instinct. "What's wrong?"

"Look outside," Rachel says. "Do you see that red sedan?"

Danny moves the curtain aside. There are three cars parked in the street rather than driveways, a van he knows belongs to a family down the road, a dark colored truck, and a maroon sedan that's sitting across the street. "Yes."

"I think," Rachel says, not quite hiding the tremor in her voice, "that car was at Grace's school today."

Danny whirls around to stare at her. "What?"

"I was... I was picking her up, and it cut off the driver behind me." She pushes her hair out of her face. "I thought it was odd then, because there was no child in the car, just a male driver, but I didn't think anything more of it." 

"Same car? Are you sure?"

She nods. "I think so. Same type, same color. It's hard to tell, Danny, I'm not sure, I just--"

"Come here." He pulls her in, feels how she shakes against his chest. "Okay, babe, we'll sort something out, I'm gonna make some calls."

She nods. 

"Go upstairs, check on Grace, and stay there, okay?"

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

Danny clenches his fists. "I'm gonna get my gun, then I'm going to be smart about this and call it in. No need to let them know we know they're watching."

"What if it's nothing?"

He hears the hesitance in her tone. "Rachel, honey, better be safe than sorry. Go up."

She nods again, and heads up the stairs, while Danny walks into the living room to unlock the drawer he keeps his gun in. He loads it without letting himself think about it, clips the holster to his belt and reaches for the phone to dial 911.

He walks into the kitchen as he explains the situation to the dispatcher, checking carefully if the car is still there. He can't tell if there's anyone inside, doesn't want to leave himself and Rachel and Grace wide open by going out there. Once the dispatcher confirms a squad car is on its way, Danny takes the phone and his gun and goes up the stairs. 

Rachel is sitting on the edge of Grace's bed, her nightlight on and shining soft light over the two of them. Grace's eyes are open, he can tell she's afraid but not voicing it, and she looks at him as he walks in, leaving the door open so he can hear what's going on. 

"Hey, monkey."

"Danno," she says, pushing up on one elbow, "what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he says, smiling widely at her. "Your mom and I just wanted to spend some time with you. Can't we do that?"

He can tell she doesn't believe him. Rachel looks at him, and he nods at her. "They're on their way."

"Okay." She makes room for him and he sits down next to her, lifts Grace out from under the covers and puts her in his lap. She snuggles into his shoulder, and Rachel reaches out to stroke her hair. Danny puts his arm around her, and waits.

\--

He hears the police car, hears the single whoop of the siren as they get the driver's attention, hears the squealing tires as the car makes off, and a minute later, the doorbell rings and there's a voice yelling his name. 

"Stay here," he says to Rachel, handing her Grace, whose large eyes are tracking him across the room. He doesn't pull his gun out of its holster until after he's out of her bedroom, and quickly heads down the stairs. 

Two beat cops are at his door, flashlights nearly blinding him, and he lets them in and switches on the light. "What gives?"

"You have good instincts," one of them says. "The guy made off when we pulled up, so the other car is still in pursuit, but we got the plate and it's registered to an address in east Bergen."

"Fuck." 

"Yeah. In any case, they called it in to the station, and orders are that we sit on you and your family for tonight."

Danny runs a hand through his hair, his heart beating in his chest. _Too close_. He nods. "Okay, I appreciate that."

The phone rings before he can head back upstairs, and he picks it up automatically. "Yeah?"

"Danny," Trent says on the other end, "what is this I'm hearing, man?"

"Boys in blue are here," Danny replies, "who called you?"

"The captain. I'm on my way over."

Better safe than sorry, Danny supposes. "Okay, thanks."

Trent cuts the connection and Danny heads upstairs. "They're here."

"Was it something?" 

"Yeah." He kneels by the side of Grace's bed and wraps his arms around the both of them. "Yeah, everything's okay now."

"Good."

"Daddy," Grace pipes up, and Danny leans back. 

"Yes, monkey?"

"Are there bad guys out there?" Her lower lip trembles, and Danny lifts her out of Rachel's arms. 

"No, baby, not any more. Come on, we'll go downstairs and you can sleep on the couch, hmm?"

He catches Rachel's glance, but she doesn't say anything, and he knows they'll both be easier having her in their sights tonight. She follows him down the stairs, picking up a blanket for Grace on the way, and the two beat officers respectfully tip their hat when they see her. 

"Trent's on his way, too," Danny tells her as they settle Grace on the sofa, and Rachel nods. 

"I'll go put the kettle on," she replies, and when she catches Danny's smirk, she adds, "Don't even think about it, Daniel."

\--

"When I said I didn't want you to bring your work home, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Danny watches her as she makes tea, a default habit in times of crisis he's never managed to break her out of, and sighs. "Look, Rachel, it's not like I--"

"Like what, you invited them over?" she interrupts. "No, Danny, but you've been pursuing this guy for months and you knew he was dangerous."

"Are you blaming me now? What is this, huh? You think I wanted this to happen?"

"No, of course not." Rachel drops tea bags into the pot without even looking. "But you won't let it go, and now it's here and Grace--"

"You think I would ever risk Grace?" Danny hisses. "Are you crazy? Do you think I would do this to my daughter, that I would risk her life, ever?"

"I didn't say that!" Rachel snaps. "But we have a house full of police officers and someone was following me yesterday."

He knows she's scared, on some intellectual level he knows that he should not yell at her, and yet he can't stop himself. "What do you want me to do? Tell me, Rachel, what am I supposed to do? Do you think I chose this? Huh?"

"Danny..."

"Yeah." He turns away from her, stares at the wall, wishes for the peace and quiet they had managed to achieve for too short a period of time. 

"Danny, I'm sorry, I'm worried, I'm not thinking about what I'm saying."

"Yeah." He can't quite find the level of calm he needs to accept her apology, can't find the clear-headedness he needs to offer his own. "Yeah, okay."

Rachel pours hot water into the tea pot, sets out mugs and sugar on a tray and picks it up. "Could you get the door?"

"Yeah," Danny replies again, and does as she asks.

\--

Rachel goes to bed somewhere around midnight, and Danny carries a sleeping Grace up to her own bed before returning to the living room where Trent and Reynolds are trying to draw up a battle plan.

"We can't prove it's Jarvis," Trent says as Danny comes back in. "There's no way we get a warrant because someone lives in east Bergen."

"We need to tie this guy to Jarvis," Reynolds adds. The cup of tea by his elbow is mostly untouched, and Danny grimaces. 

He sits down, looks at the stack of files lying on the table. He knows what they say, spent weeks studying them, and the memory brings back a brief reminder of Steve, again, and he shoves it away. "There's another way," he offers. Rachel will kill him, but that's not new from any other day. 

Two pairs of eyes turn on him. "What do you mean?" Reynolds asks.

Danny sighs. "I could go see him."

"You're crazy," Trent says. "No way, man, you're nuts."

"I'm not crazy; hear me out." Danny drums his fingers on the table. "Listen, Jarvis made it personal. He can't leave me alone because I won't leave him alone, and that means I got under his skin. I can use that. Let me wear a wire, go in to talk to him, and I'll get something on tape."

"Absolutely not, are you fucking insane?"

Danny looks at the captain. "I know what I'm doing."

"This guy tried to kill you."

"If he was trying to kill me--" he ignores the memory of the event as it surfaces in the back of his mind "--he would have done it then. Or tonight. That's not what he wants, he wants to scare me, because he's a fucking psychopath, and I'm not going to sit around till he does something worse. Let me go get this guy."

"What makes you think he'll say anything at all?"

Danny leans in. "He's cornered. We took his network away from him. Now he's vulnerable. Let's not wait until he rebuilds it."

Trent looks from one to the other. "You would need backup."

"Yeah." Danny glances at his partner. "I trust you, buddy."

"You're serious." Reynolds sounds like he can't quite believe it. 

Danny gestures impatiently. "Why sit around? Who are we going to catch, the next guy he sends over? I don't want to wait until the son of a bitch goes after my wife and daughter for real, Captain."

Reynolds nods. "Okay, okay. I'll think about it. That's the best you're going to get tonight, Williams, so can it."

Danny smiles. "Good enough for me."

\--

Trent clears his throat. "You do realize you're actually certifiable."

Danny shrugs, reaching for the pot of coffee. Dawn glimmered through the windows a while ago, and he's listening with half an ear for the sounds of Rachel or Grace moving around upstairs. "I want to put this guy behind bars."

"By risking your life?"

"He's not going to kill me."

"You don't know that."

Danny looks at Trent. "Yeah, I do. He doesn't want me dead, he wants to play with me. Following me, following Rachel, he'd have made a move a long time ago if he just wanted me dead."

He hears sounds upstairs, water running, and then footsteps descending. Rachel comes in in a bathrobe, smiles at Trent, but it's tight. "Morning."

"Hey," Danny replies. "Sleep well?"

"Okay," Rachel says, and Danny can tell she's not happy. "I'll make some breakfast, shall I?"

"Don't trouble yourself," Trent promptly says, "we should get going soon."

"Have you been up all night?" 

Danny sighs. "Mostly. It'll be okay, I, we, just have something to take care of."

She looks instantly suspicious. "What something?"

"I'm going to go up to take a shower and change my clothes," Danny says. 

"I'll head over to the station and see you there in about an hour," Trent replies, getting up. "Thanks for everything, Rachel."

"You're welcome," she replies, but her voice is tight. As soon as Trent is out of the kitchen, she turns to Danny. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

She puts one hand on her hip. "Don't lie to me, Daniel. Tell me, what are you planning?"

"It's called police work, Rachel, and I'll be doing some."

Her eyes flash. "You're going after this man."

"Yes. Hell, yes, of course I am, what did you think I was going to do? Sit here and wait until he killed you or Grace?"

He ducks her hand as she slaps him, pale with fury as she replies. "Don't talk to me like that. Don't you dare, Danny, or I swear to god, I will hurt you."

He believes her, his heart pounding in his chest, because the anger that's brimming under his skin feels of a dangerous quality. "Rachel--"

"Don't talk to me."

Danny holds up a hand, feeling the hair trigger that's sitting in his mind, and decides to choose the better part. "I'll be upstairs."

She doesn't look at him when he leaves the room. 

\--

The anger is still brimming under his skin when he drives to the station, and when he spots the two audiovisual techs in Reynolds' office, he feels relief rather than tension. 

"We got it?"

Trent nods. "Captain thinks it's worth a shot. They're setting up the tech and then we'll talk back up and how we're going to do this."

"That's easy," Danny replies, helping himself to coffee. "I'm going to walk into that gym and he'll start talking by himself."

Trent shakes his head. "Really crazy, Williams, I swear. Certifiable."

Danny knows, somewhere, that it's dangerous, but he's angry, angry at Jarvis, at Rachel, at everything; he's even angry at Steve, because if Steve hadn't been there Danny wouldn't be missing him now, like a hole in his chest that won't close, and he thinks, for a brief moment, about the sound of Steve's voice, about the way Steve can, with a single word, be a touchstone.

In the next second, the thought hits him, and he feels split wide open. _Never going to see him again_. 

"Hey, earth to Danny, what the hell, man?"

He blinks away memories and emotions and focuses back on Trent. "What?"

"You awake? Captain wants to see us."

Danny picks up his coffee mug and follows Trent to Reynolds' office.

\--

"Detective Williams."

Jarvis is lounging in a chair in the corner, just behind the boxing ring. The gym is less active than it was before the raid, only a few of the machines in use, and it gives an illusion of privacy Danny knows they don't actually have. 

"Jake," he says with a nod. 

"What brings you to my establishment? Is this one of those visits where you pretend I am a criminal and you are righteously bringing me down?"

Danny wants to smash the smirk off his face, but instead, he leans forward a little. "You are following my wife."

"Me?" Jarvis looks like a paragon of innocence, hands spread wide, feet stretched out in front of him. "I'm sorry to hear someone is following your missus, but it's not me."

"Oh, really?" Danny leans his hands on the table. "So if we go and arrest the driver, he will swear he doesn't know you?"

"Like I told you before, Officer, what my clients do in their spare time has nothing to do with me." Jarvis continues to smile widely, as if he's enjoying watching Danny dangle like bait on a hook. 

Danny can live with that. The tape holding the mike to his skin itches a little, reminding him comfortably of what he is doing. "You had my wife and daughter followed, and you had me beat up. I know you did. I know you know I know. And I will never let you have a day where I'm not watching, waiting for you to screw up. Because that is the sort of man I am, Jarvis. Diligent. Patient."

"If you were so patient," Jarvis replies, shifting a little in his chair, "you wouldn't be here to tell me about it."

"I want to watch you sweat."

"Maybe I enjoy watching _you_ sweat." Jarvis's smile twitches. "Maybe I enjoy watching your lovely wife pick up your little girl at her school."

Danny digs his nails into his skin. "What else do you enjoy?"

"That's a lovely kid you've got," Jarvis says. "Shame if something were to happen to your girl because her father didn't know when to quit."

"Are you threatening me?" Danny forces himself to keep breathing, holds on to the feeling of tape on his skin, the knowledge that Rachel and Grace are not home alone. 

Jarvis laughs softly. "Maybe I am. Did you wonder, when you shot Cornell, if he was there because of you?"

Yes, Danny wondered. "Was he?"

"You will never know, will you?" Jarvis leans forward. "Like I told you, no one has eyes in the back of their head. Next time you find yourself all alone in a store, late at night, you should look over your shoulder, because someone might be there."

 _All alone?_ Danny suppresses a smile. _Mind games. Two can play that one_. "Must have been inconvenient for you, me shooting Cornell. After all, he was bringing in a nice amount of money."

"I can get money elsewhere," Jarvis replies with a gesture. "Cornell wasn't bringing in all that much."

"Why did you shoot his girlfriend? Was she gonna talk?"

Jarvis laughs again, soft and dangerous, an edge to it that makes Danny want to strangle him. "She wanted a pension. Her boyfriend dead, she needed money so she threatened to talk. Not so clever."

"So you had her killed." Danny holds his breath waiting for the reply, wondering if Jarvis is really going to incriminate himself.

"I wasn't going to do it myself," Jarvis replies, sounding like it's business and not murder he's talking about. "I should have realized Jonas would be too stupid to do it. Cost of doing business, I guess."

 _Wow_. "Cost of doing business?" Danny repeats. "You are a sick fuck, you know that?"

"What are you going to do about it, Detective?" Jarvis sneers, crossing his feet, not even bothering to sit up. "Haunt me after I've finally killed you?"

"I," Danny replies, smiling slowly, "am going to arrest you. Stand up."

"What?"

The surprise on the guy's face is incredibly satisfying. "I said, stand up."

Jarvis laughs. "On what charge?"

"Murder and robbery, for starters." Danny comes around the table and reaches for him. "And threatening the life of a police officer, for seconds. Get up." He yanks Jarvis up, dodges the guy's first punch, and hears the sound of backup finally arriving behind him. Before Jarvis can try to hit him a second time, Trent is pulling his arms behind his back and slapping cuffs on him. 

"Jake Jarvis," Danny says, "you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, but really, you should have used it before now."

\--

"Take the day," Reynolds says, and Danny wants to protest, but Trent grabs him and hauls him out of the captain's office before he can. 

"What?" Danny snaps at him. 

"Go home. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, and don't get in the way. Let the ADA handle this one, don't mess it up."

Danny opens his mouth to argue that he wouldn't mess with anything, thank you very much, but the sleepless night and eventful morning are catching up with him. "All right, my friend, but only because you are a nice person."

"Whatever, Williams. I could just use the day off."

"Fuck you," Danny says amicably, and heads for his car. 

\--

Rachel is working at the desk in the corner of the living room, a uniformed officer sitting on the sofa watching cartoons with Grace. They chat quietly about the benefits of Tom & Jerry versus Road Runner, until Grace spots Danny and lets out a squeal that makes the woman wince. 

Danny catches his daughter in his arms and smiles at Rachel over her head, and she gives him a relieved smile in return. 

"We're done," he says. 

"Yes?"

"Yes." Danny looks at the officer. "You're relieved, but thank you."

"No problem, Detective." 

Danny shows her to the door, Grace still in his arms, and returns to find Rachel heading for the kitchen. "More tea?"

"Don't mock me, Danny."

He hadn't meant to; it hurts a little to hear her tone. "Hey, I think it's sweet."

Rachel shakes her head, but doesn't comment. "So everything is... sorted?"

"Yes. In custody and all."

"Do I want to know what crazy thing you did to achieve that?"

Danny glances down at Grace. "Later. In the mean time, monkey, why don't you tell me what you've been up to?"

"I watched cartoons all morning, daddy!"

 _Oh, god_. "Yeah? Were they fun?"

"They were brilliant! There was one..."

And Danny listens as she describes them in great detail.

\--

It takes a week before everything settles back in to normal, before Danny can find some sort of balance with Rachel that doesn't feel like he's treading on egg shells. It feels like they're both trying too hard, but neither of them talks about it, a fragile peace that Danny doesn't want to upset. 

When he wakes that morning, it's with a vague memory of Steve in his mind, snatches of a dream in his consciousness that dissipate as soon as he grabs at them, and seeing Rachel instead of Steve next to him gives him a jolt of disjointed confusion, and he blinks a few times. 

"Danny?"

"Yeah." He rolls onto his side, stares at the pattern on their duvet without really seeing it. "I'm awake."

"Good. Can you get Grace?" Rachel is already sitting up, reaching for her bathrobe, and Danny tries to make himself move, but he stays lethargically still. 

"Hmmm."

" _Danny_."

He flaps a hand. "Just a minute, babe."

Rachel sighs loudly, leaves the room, and Danny manages to sit up, struggles to rid himself of the sense of wrongness that's overlaying the sense of right he's been feeling the last few weeks.

He shakes it off, gets up, stumbles to Grace's room. She surfaces from under the covers when he clicks the light on. "Don't wanna."

"You have to, monkey." He tries to infuse a note of cheer, but it falls a little flat. "Come on, brand new day, huh?"

"Don't wanna," Grace says again, curling into a corner of her bed. "Can't I not get up, daddy?"

"No, Gracie." He lifts her from the bed and she squeals in protest, making him wince and want to cover his ears, and before he can say something, the door opens. 

"What on earth is going on here?"

"Rachel--" He puts Grace back down to be able to talk over the noise she's making. "She--"

"I don't wanna!" Grace yells. 

"Grace, don't be ridiculous. Come on." Rachel pushes past Danny to pick her up, and she lashes out, making Rachel recoil. 

"Hey!" Danny grabs his daughter's hands. "Don't hit your mom. Stop that, right now!"

"Daniel, don't yell at her."

He glances at her. "What do you want me to do, huh, Rachel? Just let her hit you?"

"No, but you-- Grace, stop it, now."

Grace starts crying, with loud, hiccupping wails, shaking her head wildly. "Don't wanna, don't wanna, leave me alone!"

Rachel takes her hands, squats down to talk to her. "Calm down, sweetheart. Come on."

Grace continues to shake her head, crying in a way that makes Danny's heart clench. "Come on, monkey," he tries, reaching for her. 

"No!" Grace wails, curling up and away from him, and Rachel finally just sits down next to her and pulls her in. She flails, connects audibly with Rachel's jaw, who winces but doesn't stop her, just takes her hand to keep her from doing it again. Grace struggles for a while, finally settles into shuddering hiccups against Rachel's shoulder.

Danny stands there, obsolete to the whole scene.

\--

By the time they're done, they're both running late, tension is simmering in the air, and Gracie is sitting quietly at the kitchen table, face pale and making morose stabs at her cornflakes without really eating them. 

"I'll take her," Danny offers, laying a careful hand on Rachel's shoulder. 

"I want mommy," Grace says softly, looking at them with big eyes. 

Rachel looks at him, biting her lip, and Danny just gives in to the sense of utter worthlessness sitting in his chest and gestures to her. "Go ahead."

He rubs the bridge of his nose as he hears Rachel talk to Grace, soft voices and the sound of Grace's feet as she walks across the kitchen to get her school bag. 

"Danny..."

"Yeah. Don't say it."

"I'm sorry," she offers. 

He looks at her. "Sorry for what? That I apparently now suck as a father as well as everything else?"

"Danny, that's not what-- Look, we just-- It's been a long week, okay?" 

"Yeah." He sighs. "All right, I'll see you tonight."

"We'll talk," Rachel promises, and for a moment, Danny wonders what on earth they'll talk about.


	10. Chapter 10

When Danny gets to the squad room, he knows something's wrong before he's even taken two steps into the room; it's deadly quiet and those people who look up when he walks in look away instead of saying anything. 

By his and Trent's desk there are two men in suits whom Danny doesn't recognize, and Reynolds is hovering in the doorway to his office, watching them. 

"What the hell?"

When he gets closer, he sees it's Trent's desk that they're clearing out, packing the papers into boxes, personal items, the photo of Fiona he kept there, and Danny's heart lurches. 

"Williams, my office!"

Danny stares from the two guys, who have badges clipped to their belts and seem intent on ignoring him for now, to Reynolds, and follows him in, closing the door behind himself. 

"Captain, tell me it isn't--" He can't finish the sentence; his mouth is dry. 

Reynolds shakes his head. "They called me early this morning to inform me they'd arrested Massaro in his own residence at about three a.m."

"What?" Danny stares. "What the hell?"

"Apparently there was a history of 911 calls made from his address and someone made a report to IA." Reynolds sits down in his chair with a sigh. "Did you have any idea?"

"Idea of what? What are you talking about?" Danny scrubs a hand over his face. "What kind of report?"

"Domestics. He and Fiona were having problems."

"Domestics?" Danny echoes. "What kind of domestics? What are they saying he did?"

Reynolds looks him straight in the eye. "They're saying he beat her."

In a split second, Danny remembers Trent's grazed knuckles, his repeated mentions of problems with Fiona, and his own preoccupation with Steve. "Fuck."

"Did you know?"

"Did I-- No, of course I didn't, you think if I knew that, I wouldn't have done something? Jesus, no, I didn't know, fuck this, I didn't know." Danny pauses. "They're sure?"

"Yeah, they're sure."

Danny starts to pace, stops, finally drops into a chair. "What did Trent say?"

Reynolds shrugs. "He's not denying it."

"What about Fiona?" He's trying to think straight, but it's hard to reconcile what he knows with what he just learned. "Is she okay?"

"Apparently she's at her mother's now."

"Okay. Okay." 

"IA wants to talk to you."

"Of course they do." Danny sighs. "All right, let's get that over with."

\--

After IA he feels aimless, with no case to deal with and no partner to talk to. He ends up sitting at his desk and catching up on paperwork, loudly ignoring the looks he's getting. When he goes home, it's to find Rachel once more in the kitchen with Grace, presenting a picture of domestic bliss. 

He pauses in the doorway and looks at the two of them. 

"Daniel?"

He sighs, opens his mouth to talk and can't quite find the words, and closes it again with a gesture. 

Rachel turns down the flame under the pan she's been stirring. "What's happened? Danny, what's wrong?"

He finds his voice. "It's Trent."

Rachel claps a hand over her mouth; he sees the same thoughts in her eyes that he had had himself that morning. 

"No, no, Rachel, it's not-- He's been suspended."

She lowers her hand. "Why didn't you call me?"

"What was I gonna say?" He catches sight of Grace's large, dark eyes, watching them. "Hey, monkey, why don't you go into the living room and watch some cartoons, huh?"

Grace slides off her chair with a glance at Rachel. "Okay, Danno."

Once she's left the room, Rachel asks, "What happened?"

"He got arrested for beating Fiona."

She gasps. "Oh my god."

Danny rubs a hand over his face. "It's apparently not the first time."

"It never is," Rachel replies, fingers at her mouth. "Oh god, Danny, is she all right?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"Did you have any idea?"

Danny throws his hands up. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? No, I had no idea, do you think that if I'd had a fucking idea I wouldn't have done something? Why does everyone assume that I would have just let him do that, huh, do I look like a low life to you? Jesus."

Rachel purses her lips and her voice is icy. "I only _asked_ , Daniel."

"Yeah, yeah, you only asked. Everyone only asks, fuck that."

"If you're going to be unreasonable, there's no point in having this conversation."

He does a double take. "What?"

She shrugs. "What do you want me to say, Danny, that I'm fine with having a discussion about your partner's propensity to violence against his girlfriend while you yell loudly enough for our daughter to overhear?"

He glances at the door. "I would never--"

Rachel stares at him in silence for a beat, but before Danny can ask her why, she says, "Have you not noticed? At all? Are you that blind to what is going on in this house? Don't you see the look on Grace's face, how she is lately? Honestly?"

"I know she's been upset, Rachel, I'm not blind, what do you take me for?"

She sighs. "Danny, for god's sake, for _her_ sake, we have to do better."

He gestures absently, over the hollow ache in his chest. "I know, I know, okay? I know I haven't been--"

"You checked out of this marriage a long time ago."

It's Danny's turn to stare in shocked silence. "I'm here. I've been right here, Rachel, that's not fair. I am trying, okay, jesus."

She runs a hand through her hair, breathes in a shuddering breath. "I know you are. We both are, Danny, I just--"

"Hey." He reaches for her at the sight of how distraught she is, pulls her into his arms. "Hey, it's okay, we'll figure it out, we'll do better, I promise, Rach."

Against his shoulder, she says, "We've been saying that for too long."

The fear in Danny's chest doesn't lessen.

\--

When he goes to the living room, the cartoons are rolling across the screen in their bright colors, but Gracie isn't smiling. His heart breaks at the sight, makes him wonder about Rachel's accusations. The guilt worms its way through his belly, and he picks up his daughter, swings her up and sits down where she was sitting, putting her in his lap. 

"Hey, monkey. Tell me all about these crazy animals, huh?"

She snuggles against him. "Daffy is a duck, daddy."

"So Daffy is the black one?"

She giggles and twists to look up at him. "Ye-es."

"What, don't give me that look! I don't know about these things, do I? You're the expert." He tickles her and she squeals, and Danny presses a kiss to her hair. "I need you to explain it all, monkey."

She smiles widely. "Okay," she says, and snuggles again.

\--

When he turns to Rachel that night and kisses her, she kisses him back until she pulls away and says, her voice low in the dark, "Do you think that could have been us? Trent and Fiona?"

Danny feels her words like a blow to his chest; something spasms as he wants to deny and knows he can't. "Rachel, I would never--"

She puts a finger over his lips, and he freezes. "I know, Danny, I know, I'm not saying that."

He takes her hand away from his face. "Then what?"

"There but for the grace of God go I," Rachel replies, and Danny listens to her slow breathing as they lie together. 

"Rachel--"

She pulls her hand free, runs fingers through his hair. "I want to keep loving you, Danny, I do. Please know that I want that."

"I know, I do know," he says over the tremor of his heart, leaning in to kiss her, to speak against her lips. "I want it, too, Rachel, for both of us, we will. I promise."

She kisses him, silencing the words in his mouth and he lets her, pulls her against him, tangles his fingers in her long, dark hair. He rolls her on top of him, deepens the kiss, and she sighs against him, pulls away a bit and rests her head on his chest. "Danny..."

He wants to think about sliding a hand under her top, wants to think about touching her skin and kissing her and feeling her against him, beautiful and alive, but he can't manage the energy, can't find the place he needs. "It's okay," he says automatically, blinks up at a ceiling he can't see in the dark, thinking of a thousand places he, they, could be. None of them seem a possibility, and everything stays confined to this room, this place, Weehawken on a dark September night. "I love you," Danny says.

"And I you," Rachel whispers, and Danny closes his eyes.

\--

When he pushes open the door, he doesn't know what he expects, but Trent is sitting at the bar, looking like himself except for the dark circles under his eyes and the gun that's missing on his hip. 

Danny sits down next to him. "Hey."

Trent glances sideways, takes a sip of the tumbler in front of him. "Williams."

Danny signals Ariana for a beer, and she puts it in front of him with a raised eyebrow. He shakes his head minutely. "You wanna talk about it?"

"No," Trent replies morosely. "Why would I want to talk about the shit that fucked up my career and my private life in one fell swoop?"

"What are you going to do?"

"I don't fucking know." Trent swigs back the last of his drink, and taps his glass against the bar, signaling for a refill. Ariana takes it and fills it with scotch without comment. 

"I'm sorry, man." Danny sighs. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have helped you, you know I would."

Trent looks at him. "What the fuck, dude, what was I gonna say?"

Danny glances at his beer, takes a sip. "Okay."

"Yeah."

They're both silent for a bit. 

"I do love her," Trent says. "They're all looking at me like I hate her, and I don't, I fucking don't. I love her, she just..." He makes an absent gesture. "She makes me so fucking angry some days."

"Yeah, well, maybe they're wondering what the hell you were thinking."

"Do you think I know? Do you think I wanted this?"

Danny frowns, puts down his beer bottle to gesture properly. "You sure as hell didn't stop it, Massaro. So what gives, eh?"

"Well, fuck you."

"Yeah, you too," Danny shoots back. He takes a sip of his beer. "What now?"

"I'm going to get drunk, and then when I can't think straight any more, I'll be glad they took my gun away so I can't shoot myself." Trent stares into his scotch. "I love her, Danny. How am I going to get her back?"

Danny takes a careful breath. "How are you going-- hey, jackass! How about you think about fixing the problem first, huh? You hit her. More than once, they tell me, so don't sit here crying into your drink like it's not your fucking fault."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know that." Danny sighs. "But you're also my friend, so can it."

"Fuck you," Trent says again. 

"Change the record. And let me help you."

Trent looks at him. "What can you do? They're going to fire me, Danny."

"Yeah, they're going to fire you. You knew that. So what? I've got friends, you can find a job, see a shrink, get your life back on track. And if you love Fiona so fucking much--"

"You know I do."

"--if you love her so fucking much, maybe she'll see you're making an effort and take you back."

Trent frowns. "A shrink? Seriously?"

Danny raises both eyebrows and gestures at him. "You question the need for that? Let me tell you something, my man, you need help. What you did-- Do you think I ever, _ever_ raised my hand to Rachel? Ever even thought about it? Hell no." When Trent opens his mouth to interrupt, Danny forestalls him with a hand. "I'm not finished. You need help. You will get help. That's the way you'll play this, you hear me?"

Trent stares into his scotch. 

"Hey," Danny says. "You're not alone."

Trent glances at him, finishes his drink. After a long pause, he replies, "Thanks, man."

\--

When he walks into the station the next day, Trent's bare desk is still giving him the creeps, but at least the squad room is humming with noise above the level of a whisper. Reynolds raises a hand and beckons him over, and Danny follows him into his office. 

There's a woman standing there, her hair slicked back into a bun, wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater, a badge and gun clipped to her belt. 

"Danny Williams, meet Detective Latoya Davison."

She holds out a hand and smiles at him, her teeth bright in her ebony face. "Hi."

Danny shakes her hand, knows where this is going, and glances at Reynolds. "It's like this, is it?" He looks back at Davison. "No offence, Detective."

She raises an eyebrow, but says, "None taken."

Reynolds sits down behind his desk and fixes Danny with a determined stare. "You need a new partner, and Detective Davison is transferring in from Manhattan, so it seems an obvious solution. I can't give you more time, we're understaffed as it is and I can't have you going around without backup."

Danny sighs. "Okay. Fine. Whatever."

"Get to know each other. There's a fraud case sitting on your desk, the Feds tossed it our way because it doesn't rate them. Nice and easy to start you off."

Danny swallows a few curse words and nods. Professionalism it is. "All right. Detective Davison, this way."

She nods and follows him out. 

\--

"That's your desk," he says, gesturing at Trent's. "Don't ask me about what happened to the guy who used to sit there."

"All right." She glances over it and around the room. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Sugar and cream, big mug," Danny replies, sitting down and opening the files. He hates fraud cases, they are so dull. Before he can finish the first paragraph, a mug of coffee appears by his elbow, and he takes a big sip. "Thank you."

Davison sits down across from him. "Okay, so, I'm not what you want, that's fine. Only thing I would ask is that we are civil to each other. That work for you?"

Danny sighs, running a hand over his hair. "Okay, I'm sorry. We got off on the wrong foot. I've not been having the best month. The best year, even. Civil works fine for me, but just so you know, I don't hate you."

She smiles a little. "That's good. Works both ways, by the way."

Danny laughs. "Good to know. What division did you work in Manhattan?"

"Narco. I heard about your takedown of Jarvis. Nice job."

"My reputation precedes me. Huh. Thanks."

She holds out a hand. "Let me look at that."

He hands her one of the files. "Be my guest."

\--

It grates on him that Davison is a morning person, she in turn placates him with coffee and uses energy bars to keep her spirits up past five o' clock. It's not the best partnership Danny's ever had, but it isn't the worst either. 

They acquaint themselves with each other's life over a long stakeout. Danny pulls out a picture of Grace and Rachel. She studies it for a while. "Cute."

"Yeah." Danny smiles as he tucks it back in his wallet. "You?"

"Just me. I'm godmother to my sister's kids, though." She digs and comes up with her own pictures, tucked into the back of her police ID, and Danny knows that kind of superstition. He looks at the pictures of smiling kids, a smiling woman who resembles Davison, and a man who must be her husband. 

"Nice."

"Yeah." Davison sips her coffee and stares back out at the street. "Remind me again why I thought police work would be interesting?"

Danny grins. "You were young and misguided."

She rolls her eyes. "So much, clearly."

\--

"Rise and shine, monkey!"

Grace pops her head out from under the covers, looks at him with bleary eyes, and says, "Do I have to, daddy?"

"Yep." Danny sits down on the edge of her bed. "Why don't you want to, huh? You think the sun didn't get up especially for you?"

"I want to sleep," Grace replies, snuggling into her blankets. 

Danny strokes her hair out of her face. "You didn't sleep well, Grace?"

"It was okay," she replies, and blinks big eyes at him. Her gaze shifts to over his shoulder, and he catches sight of Rachel in the doorway. 

"Bathroom's free, Danny."

He nods. "Thanks."

Rachel has a smile on her face, wistful and sad instead of happy, and Danny wants to ask her about it, but she says, "I'll be downstairs getting breakfast."

"Okay," he says, feeling strangely bereft when she leaves, and Grace sits up and pushes the blankets off herself, swinging her legs over the edge. 

"I'm up, daddy."

He tries to find a smile for her, ignores the urge to glance over his shoulder, and digs deep. "Good for you, monkey, come on."

\--

Rachel has laid out bowls, is packing her bag, organized and quiet as she moves around the kitchen, and Danny stops her with a hand on her arm. "Hey. Everything okay?"

She looks at him, blinks away something that looks suspiciously like tears. "I'm fine, Danny."

"Don't lie to me, you're not. What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, honest." She gives him a wobbly smile. "I just didn't sleep well."

Danny glances at Grace, blearily blinking into her cornflakes at the breakfast table. "You're not alone in that. Early to bed for both of you tonight, then." He leans in and kisses her softly. 

Rachel's smile is still sad when he pulls away.

\--

When he turns the lock that evening, the house is eerily quiet, and he walks inside, half itching to put his hand on his gun because something is _off_. 

There's a single light burning in the kitchen, and he finds Rachel sitting at the kitchen table, papers in front of her, a glass of brandy by her left hand. When she looks up, he can see her eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. 

"What's wrong? What happened? Hey." He drops his coat on a chair and walks around to her side, and she holds up a hand. 

"It's not-- Nothing's happened, Danny, I need to talk to you."

Her voice is twisted, more than sad and less than grief, and Danny feels the world tilt under his feet. He grabs the back of a chair to feel something solid under his hand. "What is it? Where's Grace?"

"I--" Rachel clears her throat. "I asked your parents to take her for the night."

"What? Why?"

"Danny..." She looks at him, stands shakily, pushing her chair back. "Danny, I can't do this anymore."

"Do what? Rachel, what are you talking about?"

She blinks away more tears, biting her lip. "Danny, I've tried. I really have. I wanted to believe we could do it, I just-- I can't be in the same house with you any more, I can't live like this, I can't do _us_ any more."

In the maelstrom of emotion that whirls past, Danny grabs hold of anger and clings to it. "What the hell? Where the hell did this come from, you can't just do this."

She fidgets with her sleeve. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I really wanted things to be different."

The sense of betrayal is utter and deep, and he can't look into that abyss. "We were trying, Rachel, I was trying, how can you just--"

She shakes her head. "Danny, we lost it a long time ago, and there's no way to get it back. I can't do this to my daughter, I can't watch what it's doing to Grace."

"Our daughter," Danny corrects automatically. "You can't just give this up."

"I can't do it anymore."

"Can't do _what_ anymore? Tell me, Rachel, tell me what you need me to do and I'll change it." He hears his own desperation under his anger, wants to fling so much in her face. "I gave up everything for you. You have no idea, I--" The memory of Steve, painful, alive, smiling before Danny sent that all to hell too comes back to punch him in the chest, and he's already winded. 

"I know, Danny." She hugs herself, looking smaller than she is, the twilight coming through the windows highlighting her frail figure. "I knew you'd be angry, I'm sorry, I can't do anything else."

"You don't know! You've no idea, Rachel, you don't know! Why are you doing this, why? You can't just decide one day to check out of this marriage, okay?"

She stares at him. " _I_ can't decide to check out? Where have you been these past few months, Danny? You say you want to make it work, and I catch you staring off in the distance like you'd rather be anywhere than here! You take your work home, you yell at me, you don't care about Grace--"

"What?! I care about my daughter, I love my daughter, you can't just--"

" _Our_ daughter! If you wanted to make this work you should have started thinking about what it takes to make this work a long time ago."

Danny gestures mindlessly. "I thought about it, I changed, I gave everything up for you, because I love you! You and Grace, and you can't just take that away from me."

"You keep saying that, what did you give up for me? Name me one thing, one thing that you changed? I know you try, Danny, you always try, but it isn't bloody enough."

 _I gave up Steve for you_. It's on the tip of his tongue but he swallows the words down, holds them in his throat because they're too much and too big and nothing can be salvaged now. "Rachel--"

She holds up a hand. "I want you to go. I'm sorry, Danny, I'm not heartless, I don't want to throw you out of your own house, but Grace..."

Grace. In an instant, he thinks about trying to explain this, all of it, to his daughter, and it takes his breath away. "What are you going to tell her?"

She blinks a few times. "If you're okay with it, I thought we could tell her together. Tomorrow."

Danny can't see past his anger, pushes everything down until he feels like he can breathe. "Okay. Okay. I'll--" He gestures, hands flying but no reason coming out. "Pack. I'll, uh, pack."

It's surreal to walk up the stairs through a dark, silent house, without his daughter there, to throw stuff into a bag. He can't remember what he's put in it a second after he's done it, ends up with a mishmash of stuff and just trudges down the stairs again, to find Rachel in the doorway to the kitchen. 

"I really am sorry, Danny. I hope that one day you'll understand."

He holds up a hand. "Don't talk to me right now. Just--" He shakes his head and pulls the door shut behind himself. 

\--

Matt pulls the door open before he can ring the bell. "Rachel called," he says, "come in, bro."

He doesn't understand why, doesn't manage to do anything beyond drop his bag by the door and sit down on Matt's sofa, and Matt hands him a beer. "Drink."

Danny drinks, and stares at the art on the walls, which has changed since the last time he was here. 

Matt says, "I'm sorry, Danny."

"Yeah," Danny manages with an errant gesture. "Okay."

"What are you going to do?"

"What can I do?" Danny shrugs, stares at his beer bottle, wonders what it would look like if he threw it into the wall and it shattered. "She wants a divorce. I don't."

"What about Grace?"

"What about her? She's still my daughter, that's not going to change."

Matt pauses, then carefully says, "You need a lawyer."

Danny stares at him. "What?"

"There's going to be stuff that has to be arranged, Danny, custody of Grace, how often you get to see her, you need a lawyer."

Danny holds up a hand, thinks about waking up in the morning and not seeing his daughter first thing, and feels a hole open up in his chest that is too big to contain. "I can't. Don't talk to me, I can't. I don't want--"

The tears sting behind his eyelids; he wants Rachel, wants Steve, feels everything twist up inside himself until he feels Matt's hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and then he just turns into his brother's embrace.

\--

He wakes up with the taste of grief in his mouth, and the world is grey and refuses to have color. He can't find a toothbrush in his bag and realizes he didn't pack one; Matt digs one up out of a scarily organized bathroom cabinet, and Danny brushes his teeth for too long, but the bitter flavor stays. 

He drives over to his own house, unlocks the door, hears the sounds of Grace eating her cornflakes and chattering in the kitchen, and his heart twists. 

He pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, and Rachel looks at him, assessing, careful, and Danny feels his anger brim, shoves it down because his daughter is in the room. 

"Hey, monkey."

"Danno!" She clambers down off her chair and runs to him, and he picks her up and hugs her tight. 

"Did you miss me, monkey? I sure missed you."

She hugs back with her small arms, the best hugs in the world, his little girl. "Of course I did!"

"That's my baby." He sets her down, and it hurts to let her go, and he looks at Rachel. 

She clears her throat. "Would you like some tea?"

She's so formal, and he wants to yell, stamps on it with a glance at Grace, who's looking from Rachel to him and back. "No, thank you."

She nods, pours herself a mug, adds the milk that Danny despises, and sits down at the table, gesturing at a chair for him. He sits, trying to find words that can explain what this is to his five year old daughter, and fails utterly.

"Grace," Rachel says slowly, "we need to talk to you about something."

Grace looks from one to the other. "I don't want to," she says decidedly. 

It could almost make Danny smile, but too much hurts. "Monkey," he tries, "sometimes--"

She shakes her head. "I don't want to. No. Don't want to."

"Sweetheart," Rachel says softly, and Danny can hear the heartbreak in her voice, "I know this is hard, it's hard for us too."

"I don't want Danno to go away!"

Rachel looks at Danny, who looks back at her, and finally gets up to pick his daughter up. Grace starts crying against his chest, and he strokes her hair. "Listen to me, monkey. I'm not leaving, you hear me? I'm not leaving you, I will never leave you. I love you, and I will always love you. Danno loves you."

She hides her face against his shoulder, her small body shaking with grief in his arms, and he feels a moment of pure hatred for Rachel for doing this to them, to Grace, to him, for everything that's happened in the past year that brought him here to this moment. 

"Don't go away," Grace says again, lifting her tear stained face from his shirt. "Please."

"I'm not going away. I'm just going to live somewhere else, but I'll be really close so you can come visit any time. Any time, monkey, I promise."

She hiccups softly, and Danny shifts her to his arm, looks at Rachel over her head. She looks back at him, as helpless as he feels, and he sits down again, letting Grace curl up in his lap. 

"Grace," Rachel says, and Grace lifts her head to look at her, "this isn't anything you've done, okay? I..." She glances at Danny. "We want you to know that. Sometimes, this just happens."

"I don't want it to happen."

"I know," Danny says, kissing her hair. "I know, babe."

\--

When Matt comes to help him pack, Grace has her head firmly buried in cartoons, the volume on the television turned up so loud Danny can hear it up the stairs. His heart is breaking, is broken, and everything feels washed out. 

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugs. "I have no idea."

"How did this happen, anyway? Did you tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

"About the guy."

Danny's chest spasms faintly at the memory, but he glosses over it. "No, I didn't tell her. She just wanted to end it."

"So she doesn't know you had an affair?"

Through the open door, past Matt's head, Danny sees Rachel. She stands frozen in the doorway, and Danny can't look away, meets her shocked eyes head on. Matt turns slowly, sees what's going on and mumbles something before escaping the room. 

Rachel blinks a few times. "What?"

"Rachel, I--" He tries to find words to say, tries to find some way to explain and knows it's the unexplainable. 

"You had an affair?" she says slowly, the beginnings of anger coloring her disbelief. "Tell me it isn't true, Danny, tell me!"

"It's true," he replies with a sigh. "But it's over, it's been over--"

"Over? This is what's been on your mind this whole time, this is why you weren't really here, you were seeing someone else?" Danny takes a breath to reply, but she isn't done yet. "While I was fighting to keep this marriage together you were shagging some woman you picked up-- how did you even-- who is it?"

"It was a guy," Danny says over his better judgment, "and I'm sorry, Rachel, I broke it off, I love _you_ and I want to make this work, that's why I ended it, it was never supposed to get that far."

"A guy? How many times?" she hisses. 

"What?"

"How many times did you have an affair during our marriage, Daniel?"

Danny scrubs a hand over his face. "Just once. Only once, Rachel, I swear, I'm not--"

"You're not what? Not someone who's been having an affair with another man behind his wife's back? What am I meant to think, Danny, am I some kind of beard for you, is this all so--"

"No! Rachel, no, never. I love you. Steve was just--"

"Steve? That's his name?" She gestures furiously. "What else? Is he handsome, Danny, is he good in bed, does he give you what you were missing with me, the mother of your daughter?"

Her mocking tone punches through the memories, through the way everything in the past now feels dirtier, worse than it already was, punches through the conflict of heartbreak Danny feels on both counts. "Rachel--"

"Tell me!"

"What do you want to hear?" Danny yells. "That I fucked him? Of course I did, what did you think people do when they have a fucking affair?!"

She slaps him, hard, across the face, and he takes the sting and lets it ground him. "I was," she says slowly, tears gathering in her eyes and making her voice thick, "worried about you. I was trying to save this marriage, trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, and in the mean time you were fucking some guy behind my back?"

Danny hangs his head and stares at the floor. "Rachel--"

"Who is he, Danny? Tell me who he is. How did you meet?"

Danny throws up his hands. "What's the point?"

"What?"

"What do you want to say, Rachel? Is there anything I can say? Yeah, I shouldn't have had an affair. I _ended_ it, Rachel, for you, because I wanted to be married to _you_."

"I don't care!" she yells. "You shouldn't have been having an affair to begin with!"

"I know! I know, okay, jesus, Rachel, I never wanted any of this to happen!"

"Then why did you do it, for god's sake?"

Danny opens and closes his mouth, and they stare at each other in shocked silence. Finally, Rachel says, "I should thank you for making this a whole lot easier. But you didn't, not really, so I'll just say that right now, I don't want to see you at all. Please leave, and you can contact my lawyer about custody arrangements for Grace."

"Rachel--"

" _Leave_."

Danny picks up the bags he was packing and walks past her down the stairs.

\--

Danny moves his life into a motel room, one single room where the walls stare at him, and Matt gets him a lawyer, who talks in legalese and keeps driving up Danny's blood pressure. He lets Matt deal with it, stares at the walls, at the ceiling, anywhere but at his own life. 

Matt visits, a lot, sits up with him and brings beer and makes sure Danny goes to work, and Danny tries, tries not to let his life fall down around him. 

\--

Custody and visitation are dirty words, he can't just see his daughter, there have to be times arranged and Rachel has to agree, and there are phone calls back and forth between lawyers and mediators and when Danny picks Grace up, Rachel stares daggers at him. 

She stays civil, when she speaks to him, but he knows it's for Grace. 

Danny tries to stop loving her, but she's beautiful in her anger, and it's hard. 

\--

September crawls into October while Danny stares at walls and reads seemingly endless amounts of divorce paperwork that makes him want to scream, and Davison covers for him on the days and weekends he has Grace. Their partnership works well enough, although Danny hates breaking in a new partner, hates everything, hates the world because it seems to hate him. 

"You're late," Rachel says when she opens the door, already turning away to do something else, leaving him on the doorstep. 

"Good morning to you, too," Danny replies. "Where's Grace?"

"She's brushing her teeth, she'll be right down."

"So you complain that I'm late but she's not actually ready to go?"

Rachel puts her hands on her hips. "You live down the block, Danny."

"Yeah, so?"

She sighs dramatically and turns away, putting papers in her bag. 

Danny raises an eyebrow. "Are you going to the office?"

"Does it matter to you? Yes, for your information, I'm going to work to catch up on the hours I missed because I am a single mother."

Danny does a double take. "A single mother? Give me a break, Rachel, you chose this, and I'm there for my kid, you know that."

She glares at him. "I chose this? Hardly. It takes two, Danny."

"I was there. I was right here, I was working on it!"

"By sleeping with someone else behind my back?"

Danny sighs. "Rachel, it wasn't like that, it was--"

"You know, I don't even want to talk about this. Have Grace home by eight, make sure she's eaten because I won't have time to cook."

Danny takes a deep breath to reply, but he hears Grace's footsteps on the stairs, clattering down, and then her voice. "Danno!"

"Hey, monkey." He sweeps her up. "You ready for the zoo?"

"Can we go see the polar bears?"

His face hurts from the strength of his smile. "The polar bears? Of course we can see the polar bears, you think I wouldn't take my little girl to the polar bears? Come on."

\--

November comes, winter with it, and eventually the first snowfall. Danny tries to kick the heating in his crappy motel room to life, shivers under the covers when he wakes up one morning, and threatens to drag the hotel staff over the counter if they don't fix it by the time he comes back. 

He drives to work in a traffic jam that is New Jersey's predictable response to anything, and by the time he's managed to slither across the trampled snow from the parking lot to the building, his mood has plummeted as deep as the temperatures. 

Davison gets up from behind her desk as soon as she sees him and that makes him pause in the doorway rather than meet her halfway. 

"What's up?"

Her expression is pinched, worried. "You may want to not be here. The captain's looking for you, there's two officials waiting in his office with him."

He glances at Reynolds' office, sees a man and a woman in business suits drinking coffee out of paper cups, talking to his boss. "Do you know who they are?"

She shakes her head. "No, but they have badges of some kind, possibly feds."

"What would the feds want with me?" Danny shrugs out of his coat. "Since I haven't lied on my tax forms or anything, I think I'm safe."

"Okay," she replies. "I have your back, partner."

"That you do," Danny says, smiling at her, "and thank you."

"No prob." She returns to her desk and Danny helps himself to coffee before knocking on the captain's door and sticking his head in. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Williams, come in. This is Mr. Jensen and Ms. Brooks." 

Danny shakes their hands, plasters a polite smile on his face. 

"This is Detective Williams," Reynolds completes the introduction. "Mr. Jensen and Ms. Brooks are with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

Danny's heart stutters and stops, restarts as he tries to recover from the feeling of being punched in the gut. He smoothes his face as best he can. "Excuse me?"

Brooks gestures towards a chair. "Why don't you sit down, Detective?"

Danny raises an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me what this is about?"

"Williams," Reynolds says, the warning clear in his tone, and Danny glances at him, gets a look in return that suggests he knows what this is about, and he doesn't like it. "Sit."

Danny sits, has a momentary flash of worry about what will come out of the investigators' mouths next. What if something happened? What if--

"We understand you are an acquaintance of Lieutenant Steven McGarrett," Brooks says. Her demeanor is calm and professional, but her eyes are sharp.

Danny nods curtly. "So what if I am?"

"Detective," Jensen says, "I think we both know what this is about."

"Do we? Because you didn't tell me," Danny shoots back, "and in any case I don't understand why you show up at my place of work to talk to me about a friendship I may or may not have in my private life."

"You just said you did," Brooks needles. 

"No," Danny replies, "I didn't."

She purses her lips in irritation. "Fine. But you do know the lieutenant."

"I don't see how it's any of your business."

"Williams." Danny glances at Reynolds. "It would be in your best interest to cooperate."

"And why is that?" Danny replies. "What the fuck is this about?"

"We are investigating the possibility that the lieutenant may have carried on an unauthorized relationship," Jensen says. "And in the process of that investigation, we came across your name."

Danny forces himself not to respond. 

Jensen narrows his eyes, but continues. "We have reason to believe Lieutenant McGarrett was at a crime scene where you fatally shot a suspect on August 26th, and both you and he failed to disclose this fact. We believe you did this to avoid suspicion you were conducting an illicit affair."

Danny stands, anger simmering in his gut, fear and compassion mingling with it. He thinks of Steve, briefly, of the last time he saw Steve, their goodbyes, and that night, Steve wiping his prints off the door handle so he couldn't be placed at the scene. "I think this conversation is over."

Reynolds starts to speak, but Brooks cuts him off. "Detective, his credit card payment places him at the scene at the same time as the robbery. We visited the apartment complex you were staying at. The neighbors confirm a man in uniform regularly stayed the night at the address you gave as your temporary residence in the IA report."

 _Steve_. Danny knows it will kill Steve to lose his career, presses his lips together to keep himself from saying anything that will make it worse. "Then why are you talking to me, when you think you know everything already?"

"You lied about a witness at a crime scene, Detective."

"And you're trying to get me to incriminate a friend," Danny shoots back. 

Brooks looks at him. "You're not any more, though, are you? There hasn't been any contact between you since that week."

The invasion of his privacy stings, but what stings more is everything he tried to bury over the past few months rushing to the forefront. "Why don't you just fuck off with all your suggestions and incriminations and accusations, huh? I have nothing to say to you people. You can believe what you fucking well want."

Jensen stands, looks him straight in the eye. "We don't want to care about the lieutenant's private life, Detective. Whatever you've heard about the Navy, we don't want to do this. But lying about a felony offence, carrying on an illicit affair, that makes him a security risk, and we care very much about that."

Danny holds up a hand. "Fuck off. Do you think I give a fuck why you do what you do? I have nothing to say to you."

Brooks stands as well. "Thank you for your time, Detective. And you for your cooperation, Captain."

Danny watches them all shake hands, glares at them until they've left the room. When he meets Reynolds' eyes, he holds up a hand again. "I know, okay? Whatever it is, yell at me, it's fine."

"I have to ask for your badge and your gun," Reynolds replies. He looks about as sorry as he sounds, and Danny appreciates that. "I don't want to do this, but I have no choice in the face of their evidence."

Danny unclips his badge and gun, fishes out his ID and adds it on top of the pile. 

"Tell me, Williams, are they right?"

"Right about what?" Danny says, with a sigh. 

"Are you... gay?"

Danny runs a hand over his hair. "No, I'm not. But they're not wrong." 

He turns on his heel and walks out.

\--

Davison is looking at him in shock, the whole department is silent. They've all seen him hand in his gun and badge, and as Danny tears his coat off the rack, Davison says, "What the hell happened?"

"My past caught up with me. Or a witch hunt. Whichever you prefer."

"Danny--"

"Fuck this. Just--" He holds up a hand. "Fuck this, I'm sorry."

He can't take her questions, he won't, so he walks out of that room, too. 

\--

He toys with his cell phone, turns it over in his hands, lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling, remembers other motel rooms and other ceilings, a presence in bed with him, Steve's eyes, breaking him apart from the inside. 

Twilight comes and goes, dawn glimmers before Danny nods off with the phone still in his hand, and when he wakes it's with a crick in his neck and to the sound of someone banging on his door. 

He drags himself up from the bed to pull it open, and Matt stands there. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Hello, bro," Danny replies. 

"Why didn't you call me last night? I thought we were gonna--"

Danny waves a hand at him. "Sorry, something came up."

"What happened?"

Danny watches Matt sit down in the chair he's occupied a lot of nights lately, and says, "I got suspended."

Matt's double take makes him want to not have to tell the story again, but he takes a deep breath and relays it anyway.

"So the guy was in the Navy?"

"Is," Danny corrects, and then says, "for now, I guess. His name's Steve."

"Steve."

"Yeah." It's odd to hear it in Matt's voice, odd to tell him so much about it after such a long time, even though Matt's the only one who's known.

Matt says, "Did you love him?"

"You know I did." Danny sighs. The past few months have ebbed and faded what's happened, everything that's happened, although there are still chasms in his chest he can't heal, for Rachel, for Grace, for Steve, they are less and he can breathe around them. "I loved him, and I loved Rachel, and I lost them both because of it."

"Do you think you're going to get fired?"

Danny shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. Steve will be, though."

"Yeah," Matt says. "Do you want a beer?"

"Hell yes," Danny replies. 

\--

When he picks up Grace that weekend, he shows up early, and Rachel peers at him from under her bangs. "She's not ready."

"I know."

"Well, don't complain about it; you're early."

"I know. Rachel--"

"What?"

"I wanted to talk to you." Danny sighs. 

"You could have called," Rachel replies, sweeping into the kitchen. 

Danny follows her. "Look, Rachel--"

"What?" she snaps. 

He holds up a hand. "I'm not-- This is not me trying to get you back, I just-- I realized this week I never said I'm sorry, and I am, I am fucking sorry. I'm also mad, because I am an angry person, but I behaved in shitty ways, and Rachel, I realize I've hurt people, I hurt _you_ , and I'm sorry."

She pauses, frowns at him for a long time. Danny waits, resisting the urge to scuff his toe over the kitchen linoleum. Finally, Rachel says, "Would you like some tea? Or perhaps coffee?"

He smiles. "Coffee would be great."

"I'll make some," she says. 

He nods, watches as she gets out the mugs and flips on the kettle. She looks over her shoulder for a moment, smiles back at him. He knows it's not quite acceptance, and probably they'll yell at each other again next week, but it's a start.

\--

Monday morning, he stares at his cell phone one last time, and finally just calls. The phone rings once, and then the pre-recorded phone company message kicks in. 

_The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and dial again_.

It's still, after all these months, a kick in the gut, his last tenuous connection to Steve severed, a hole in his heart etched and permanent, and Danny stares at the display, at the name there, at the only connection he ever really had to Steve.

He never had much of Steve to begin with. It's what made it easy, what made it work, and what ended it. The finality of the moment makes him take a shaky breath, leaves him sending a quick prayer into the world that wherever Steve is, whatever he is doing, someone is there for him. 

The future looks bleak, his own divorce coming up, his suspension, the clouds gathering at the horizon, but it's all Danny's left with now.

\--

The knock on the door interrupts him in the middle of the movie's plot, and he mutes the tv in order to answer it. 

Davison is standing on the other side, next to her a woman he recognizes, Mrs. Jackson, Tyrone Jackson's mother. 

"Sorry to bother you, Danny, I just--" Davison smiles, gestures at Mrs. Jackson. "She showed up at the department looking for you, and..."

"I didn't want to speak to the other detectives," the woman says. "I remembered you; you cared about my boy, and I wanted to see you."

"Come on in," Danny says, stepping aside. Once they've come in, he realizes there's not enough places for everyone to sit, but Davison takes up a place leaning against the window sill, allowing Mrs. Jackson to take a seat in the room's only chair, and Danny sits on the foot end of the bed, facing her.

"I'm sorry to bother you at home," Mrs. Jackson says, and glances around the room. 

Danny knows what she sees. "Such as it is. No problem. What can I do for you?"

"They told me you've been suspended," she says, "but... Your partner assures me it wasn't for anything... bad."

Danny glances at Davison, who shrugs. He doesn't know how much she's been told, he can find that out later. "I've been suspended," he says as calmly as he can manage, "over lying about the presence of a witness at a crime scene."

Mrs. Jackson blinks. "Why?"

Danny sighs, but she deserves to know the truth if she wants to put her trust in him. "Because certain things about my private life and the private life of the witness would come to light. Those things had no bearing on the case, but they had a lot of consequences."

She nods. "I appreciate your candor, Detective."

He nods. "What's going on, Mrs. Jackson?"

"You said, back when Tyrone was... gone, that if there was ever anything, we could come to you. The department would do something."

"Yes."

She takes a slow, shuddering breath. "I don't... I don't have anything that's proof. I'm asking you to take me seriously, because this is about my son."

Danny leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Whatever you tell me, Mrs. Jackson, I will look into it, you have my word."

She nods. "Between our house and the Thompson's, where Ty was going, there lives a man. His name is Wilder. I think you spoke to him."

"We spoke to everyone," Danny says. "I don't remember him specifically, but we spoke to everyone."

"I'm sure you did. This man, he lives alone."

Danny nods, waiting for her to continue. 

"But people come to his house. They carry bags, and they leave without them. Or they come without bags, but leave with them." She wrings her hands together. "I'm not a stupid woman, I know what that can mean."

Danny glances briefly at Davison. She has her notebook out and is scribbling, quickly meeting his eyes. 

"But two months ago, he tried to give me money. He gave some excuse, about how he knew we were having a rough time and our porch needs fixing, and that's true and we can't afford it, but he wanted to give us a lot of money." She sighs. "My husband thinks I'm crazy, talking to the police when all he wanted to be was nice, but I keep thinking... what if Ty saw something? What if he knew something? What if he feels guilty for killing my son?" Her voice breaks on the last sentence, and Davison leans in to put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Mrs. Jackson," Danny says, "is there anything else?"

She shakes her head. "I just want to know someone will look at Terry Wilder. If you look and tell me there's nothing there, then I can try--" She pauses. "It won't change anything, but at least I won't be looking at my neighbor, wondering if he killed my son."

Danny feels Davison's eyes on him, nods without meeting her gaze. "We will. We will look at Terry Wilder."

\--

"So, you know I could be fired for doing this with you."

"Shut up," Danny replies. "You came to me with this, and I haven't even been fired yet."

They're parked outside Terrence Wilder's house, a little ways up the street, monitoring his front door via the rear view mirror. "What did you do, anyway?"

"Don't you know?" Danny sips his coffee. "I thought the whole department would know by now."

"No worse gossips than cops, but... I know you lied about your girlfriend being at a crime scene. Which, wow, I didn't know you had a girlfriend on the side."

"I don't." Danny laughs drily. "I never did."

"So who were the feds, then? And why? Because you told Mrs. Jackson..."

"I told Mrs. Jackson the truth." He looks at her. "They weren't feds, they were NCIS. The witness at the crime scene was a naval officer, and I was having an affair with him."

"Jesus fuck," Davison says. "You're gay?"

"No. Can we drop it?"

She frowns. "I guess. So where's this guy now?"

Danny puts his coffee down to run a hand over his hair, checks the rear view mirror automatically. "God knows. We broke up; I don't speak to him anymore."

"And your wife divorced you anyway."

"Enough."

"Okay, sorry." She glances in the mirror. "So, do you think Wilder did it?"

Danny is grateful for the change of topic. "He's the best lead we've had since we found the body."

"He was stabbed, right?"

"Yeah." Danny shakes the image of Tyrone's small, lifeless body, an image he still carries. 

"Could be an act of impulse," Davison speculates, "stabbing someone. And kids, they bleed out quicker than adults, and you can't just dump them somewhere, they'll talk."

"He died in a storage facility." Danny suppresses a shudder. "And--"

"Hey up." Davison sits up straighter, checking the side mirror as well as the rear view one. "Visitors."

A man carrying a bag is walking up Wilder's drive. He stays in the house only about ten minutes, and comes out without a bag. Davison twists in her seat to take his picture, ducking down as soon as he looks their way. 

The man leaves the street without glancing at them a second time. "I hate stakeouts," Danny grumbles, and settles in for another long wait.

\--

Danny wakes up alone again, like he does every morning these past few weeks, since Matt stopped coming over and staying the night. It's still dark out, but the alarm's beeping insistently. He hits it, gets up to shower and shave. 

By the time he's putting on his shoes, there's a knock on the door and he lets Davison in, accepting the cup of takeout coffee and the bag of food she offers him. 

"You are a god among mortals."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She sits in the window sill again, waiting impatiently for him to finish tying his laces in between sips of coffee. "I ran another few pics yesterday, by the way."

They've been watching Wilder's house long enough that they have a list of names, people with criminal records, most of them related to drug offences, and a suspicion that they're dealing with some serious crime here. 

Wilder is dealing from his house. It doesn't mean Wilder killed Tyrone Jackson. 

They both know it, but neither of them are willing to give the case up just yet. Danny finishes his laces, gathers his coat, coffee cup, and keys, and says, "Let's go."

Back to the grind. 

\--

At the end of the day, when Danny feels like his legs will be numb forever, Davison says, "We need to take this to Reynolds."

Danny's known that for a while. "He'll hate us both."

"We're right, though."

"Yeah, and I'm still on suspension."

Davison shrugs. "That's only because IA is dragging their ass. Come on, you lied, but it doesn't influence the outcome."

Danny sighs. "They don't know that."

"Well, they will once they investigate. Come on. Mrs. Jackson deserves it."

Danny nods. "All right, let's go."

\--

"You did what?!"

Danny refuses to look away. 

"You are suspended. You--"

"He was not alone, sir. I was there, and he was just keeping me company. He knew the specifics of the case, and the witness would only speak to him. What was I supposed to do?"

"Stay out of this, Davison!"

She leans forward, hands on the desk. "Respectfully, no, sir. I won't. I know Danny shouldn't have been there, but we weren't arresting anyone, and I needed his expertise."

"You were breaking the rules!"

"I was breaking the rules," Danny interjects, "and I'll take the fall for it. We have a case, sir, and we want to pursue it."

Reynolds drops into his chair with a sigh. "Your evidence looks solid."

"It is solid," they chorus, then smile at each other. 

"Lord save me." Reynolds glances at the files again. "I'll make some calls. It's about time IA stops having a stick up their ass about you, anyway."

Danny nods. "Thank you, sir."

\--

"I pulled some strings," Reynolds says the next morning, glaring at Danny. "And if I ever hear of you doing something like this again, I will personally take you out back and kick your ass."

"Yes, sir."

Reynolds slides his badge and gun across the desk, and Danny picks them up, thinks how strangely resonant this is. For a moment, he's struck by a memory, Steve's arms around him early that Monday morning, holding him close until the phone rang, the Navy called, tearing them apart, and now, undoubtedly, tearing Steve to pieces.

It makes Danny long for him in a way he hasn't for a while; an ache dulled by time, ripped open by the terrible distance events and decisions have left between them. 

He lost Rachel, but he chose to lose Steve. 

"Williams."

It sounds like it wasn't the first time Reynolds was saying his name, and Danny snaps his attention back to the room. "Sir?"

"I didn't, uh, mention any specifics to the guys. I think it might be, um, smart to do the same."

Danny connects the dots easily, feels irritated anger at being told to be in the closet for his own safety. "Captain," he says with a nod, deciding not to give a specific answer to this. 

"Get this bastard," Reynolds replies. "If he killed Tyrone Jackson, see that you put him away."

Danny leaves with a nod. 

\--

When they arrest Wilder, it's for the drug smuggling, and Danny takes great pride in watching the forensics team go into the house. If there's any trace still to be found, they will find it. Down the road, Renee Jackson is watching them, and Danny nods at her. 

Davison appears at his elbow. "Wanna go get the fucker?"

"Yes," Danny replies. "Let's go.


	11. Chapter 11

"We haven't met, Mr. Wilder. I'm Detective Davison, this is Detective Williams. We'd like to have a word."

Terry Wilder is sullen, sagging in his chair with the disinterest of a man who knows it's now all down to lawyers. His attorney is sharp-suited and bright-eyed, and Danny hates a man who spent that much effort into becoming an apologist for criminals. 

Wilder drags his eyes up to look at them. "What do you want?"

"We want to know," Danny says with a polite smile, "what you remember of the night of January 1st of this year."

Wilder twitches, minutely, only noticeable because Danny was looking out for it. "This about the kid who disappeared?"

"Yes."

"I didn't see him."

Davison clears her throat. "He walked past your house, Mr. Wilder. He might have gone missing right in front of your door."

Twitch. Danny smiles again, tries to look approachable and sympathetic. "If you noticed anything that night, it would really help his parents."

"Why? Their kid's dead, isn't he?"

"They want closure," Davison says. "We understand you are quite friendly with them."

Wilder frowns. "Is this about the money? Can't a guy be nice anymore?"

"What money, Mr. Wilder?" Danny asks. 

"The stuff for their porch. I just thought they were having a hard time, I had money to spare, so-- I was being nice, okay?"

"Maybe because you had a guilty conscience to assuage?" Davison says. "Maybe you know what happened to little Ty, and you wanted to make his family feel better. Does it burn on your tongue, every time you see them wonder?"

Wilder twitches again, and Danny feels a sense of impending victory. "You know, maybe it was an accident. Or maybe you just know someone who had something to do with it."

"Yeah," Davison says sarcastically, "the kid tripped and fell on his knife."

"That's not very nice," Danny replies to her, "Terry here isn't that kind of guy, okay?"

"Detectives--" the attorney begins, but they both ignore him. 

"I think Mr. Wilder here stabbed the kid because he found something out about his illicit dealing of white substances." Danny wants to give her an award for her sarcasm; it's brilliant. "And he cold-heartedly stabbed him in the gut so he wouldn't talk."

Danny shakes his head slowly, drags his eyes from her face, leans a little across the table and says, "It wasn't like that, was it, Terry? You didn't mean to; you tried to save him, I know, I saw the body, I know that you tried."

Wilder spasms in his seat, shoves it back from the table a little ways. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Come on, Mr. Wilder," Davison tries, "we don't have to talk about the drugs, do we? We can take you down for murder one, of a child, what do you think a jury's gonna do with that?"

"A jury will be sympathetic if it was an accident," Danny says, speaking over Wilder's attorney's second attempt at protest. "They'll understand you didn't mean to do it, tell me how it happened."

"Detectives," the attorney says for the third time, "I must insist--"

Danny slams his hand down on the table. "What? That your client didn't do it? You think we won't find traces of that kid in his house? You think your client is that good at washing the blood away?"

Something that is almost a sob escapes Wilder. "I didn't want it," he says, voice low and shaky. 

"Didn't want what?" Danny says, trying not to hold his breath, not to show how important this is. "Tell me, Terry."

"He wasn't supposed to-- why did he have to come by right at that moment?"

"What did you do?" Davison demands. 

"I stabbed Ty," Terry Wilder says slowly. "I didn't mean to, but my god, I did."

\--

Danny walks out of interrogation with the elation seeping out of his body. Davison follows, looking about as well as he feels. "I'll get the coffee," she says, and Danny nods his thanks as he falls into his chair. 

The mug appears by his hand, and he takes a gulp, nearly scalding his mouth. 

"I'm sorry," Davison offers. "I know how hard you worked on this case."

Danny remembers, the endless days and nights, finding the body, fighting with Rachel, meeting Steve. The first night they spent together, the second, the things that were never supposed to happen happening. "You want to go grab a beer?"

"Sure. You know a place?"

Danny nods. 

\--

Ariana's is only half-filled, and Danny grabs the corner booth that he and Steve sat in, that night Steve first kissed him, the night Danny ran away from his attraction only to be reeled in, an inevitable slide. 

"Do you normally stare quietly into your drink?"

He meets Davison's eyes. "No, I-- Memories."

"Of what?"

He shrugs. "The Navy guy," he says finally. "I met him here."

"You picked him up in a bar?" she says with a tinge of disbelief. 

"Yeah. Or he me, I don't know."

She takes a sip of her beer. "What was he like?"

Danny thinks of ways to describe Steve, tries a gesture or two but fails to find words. "I think I loved him," he says at last. "I think... I think if I hadn't been married, he would have broken my heart, and not the other way around."

"But you were married."

"And he was married to his job." Danny drinks some more beer, lets the flavor wash away memories. "Is it crazy to think about what might have been?"

"No." She shrugs. "Unless... Are you thinking about turning it into possible futures?"

The idea is crazy, insane, there's no way, and yet. For all that's happened, Danny's marriage is over and Steve's career... Danny has no clue, but whatever it is, they can work around it. Or they can try. Nothing with Steve was ever easy, but the moment Danny lets himself think about it, think about the possibility of waking up in Steve's arms one more time in his life, his heart stutters and leaps. 

Ariana stops by their table. "Can I get you anything, or are you good?"

Danny looks at her. "I'm fine. I'm excellent. I'm insane."

She laughs. "Which one is it?"

Davison says, "I think he might be thinking about a leap of faith."

"Best way to go," Ariana says with a shrug. "You go ahead and jump, Danny."

As she walks off, he stares at Davison. "This is all your fault."

"Yes," she agrees amicably. 

"I don't even know how to find him."

"What _do_ you know?"

"Hawaii," says Danny.

\--

New York reminded Steve of home, and it makes Honolulu the first place Danny looks. There's a _J. McGarrett_ listed in the book, and no one else. 

"This is crazy," he complains. 

Davison looks at his screen. "Might be a relative."

"I don't even know if he's moved back home. It's not likely, you know, I don't--"

"Danny. Call, and find out."

Danny nods. There's no point in delaying this. If he doesn't try now, he never will, and then this really will be a chance lost forever. "Okay." He types the number on his screen into his phone and waits for the call to connect.

It rings, once, twice, a third time, and a gruff, male voice answers. "Hello?"

"Mr. McGarrett?" Danny asks. 

"Speaking. Who's this?"

"Danny Williams. I, uh, I'm looking for a man named Steve McGarrett, and I was wondering--"

"Steve's my son."

Danny nearly drops the phone. "Any chance your son is in the Navy?"

"Why are you looking for him?" 

At least Danny knows where Steve gets his distrust from. "He's a friend, but we lost touch; his phone's disconnected. Do you have a current address for him so I can get back in touch?"

"He lives in Honolulu. Do you have a pen and paper?"

Danny writes down an address, a few meaningless lines on a piece of paper, thanks the man on the other end and hangs up. 

"You got it?"

"Yeah," he says, "yeah, I do."

\--

He walks around with Steve's address in his pocket for days. It's still there when he picks up Gracie for the weekend, swinging her up into his arms. "Ready for the arcades, monkey?"

"I really wish you wouldn't take her there," Rachel says. 

"It can't harm her any; it didn't harm me." Danny smiles at his daughter. "Wanna whack some more moles, hmm?"

"Yes, Danno!" She snuggles happily into his arms and Rachel smiles. 

"All right, off you go then. You'll have her back by seven?"

"I was hoping to make it eight, makes it easier with dinner."

Rachel sighs, but she nods. "All right, go on."

Danny puts Grace down. "Go get your coat and kiss your mom goodbye." She races off to the hallway, and they both watch her go. "So, uh, how've you been?"

Rachel frowns. "I'm all right."

"Yeah? That's good. That's really good."

"Danny--"

He holds up a hand. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know you didn't."

"Did you?"

She sighs. "Let's not fight about trivial things."

"All right." Danny tries to let go of the anger creeping up on him, made easier by Grace's reappearance. "Let's go, monkey."

He watches her hug and kiss her mother, and feels a moment of deep envy. Rachel gets to watch Grace wake up every morning. He doesn't think she gets to complain about him wanting to stay out an hour later.

\--

"I'm thinking about going on a holiday, monkey."

Grace's spoon full of ice cream hovers midway to her mouth. "Can I come, Danno?"

Danny grins, but shakes his head. "Not yet. You have school, don't you? Your mom would be very angry if I took you out of school."

She nods seriously, her pigtails swishing. "Okay. Where are you going?"

"I'm thinking about Hawaii."

"Are there palm trees there?" 

"Why, do you like palm trees?" Danny says with a smile. "Is this something I should know about, are you suddenly fond of palm trees? Do you want to plant one in the backyard, should I warn your mom?"

She giggles. "No, daddy! I've just never seen palm trees."

"I think there are palm trees, and I'll bring you back a picture, how about that, huh?"

"Okay. Then you should go," she says, spooning more strawberry ice cream into her mouth.

\--

It's easier to get the time off than he would have thought, and then it's just a matter of not waiting and just doing things. He books tickets and packs a bag and winds up on a noisy flight to Honolulu International Airport, arrives at a too loud, too cheerful, too warm place on the other end with a slip of paper in his pocket and the idea that he must be crazy.

He checks into his hotel, which is not, like the brochure describes, a luxury resort, but more a place that has crammed a bed into a broom closet and called it a room. Danny will have to live with it. He sits on the edge of the bed, stares outside at a street that's busy and colorful and loud, and hates it. 

It's nothing like New York, he doesn't know what Steve was thinking. New York is crowded and busy, but it's also bustling and grimy and home. This place is an assault on Danny's senses.

He stretches out on the bed, digs the slip of paper out of his pocket, stares at it. He's come this far, and he has to do this, has to give himself, has to give them this chance, if Steve will let him. 

He could have flown three thousand miles to find Steve shacked up with someone else, to find Steve slamming the door in his face, to find Steve never wanting to speak to him again. 

But he won't know unless he tries. 

Danny blinks at the ceiling, listens to the whirring of the fan, and closes his eyes.

\--

When he wakes, it's to twilight shimmering in the distance. Danny walks himself through a shower and shave, forces his mind not to think about what he's doing and where he's going, and finally he just gets into a cab and shows the slip of paper to the driver. 

He is dropped off somewhere in the north of the city, where tall buildings are set closely together, and has to walk up five flights of stairs to get to a bland, anonymous door that has the right number on it. 

There's no way back from this, as if he were ever kidding himself that coming to Hawaii meant he wasn't going to go through with this, and he raises his hand, knocks on the door, and waits. It takes a few seconds, and the door is yanked open impatiently. 

Steve looks more tired than he used to, his hair is a tad longer than it was, and the frown on his face is heavy with suspicion. 

Danny tries a smile, knows it falters on his face. His fingers twitch, and he balls his hands into fists by his side.

"Danny," Steve says with a mix of surprise and apprehension. "What the hell?"

"Hi," Danny says, mind blank because he hasn't allowed himself to think beyond this moment. "I, uh--"

"What are you doing here?"

 _Suspicious as ever_. "I was looking for you, Steven, what do you think?"

Steve looks over his shoulder into the empty hallway. "You better come inside."

His heart heavy in his chest, Danny follows him in. The place is small, the walls bare, a single light on by the sofa. There's a stack of books on a side table, some dishes piled into the kitchen area sink, and nothing else that looks remotely personal lying around. 

Steve shrugs when Danny looks at him. "Honolulu real estate," he says, and Danny isn't sure what that's supposed to mean, but nods anyway. "What are you doing here?" Steve says again. 

He looks at Steve, looks properly, at the circles under his eyes and the way the impersonal, small room makes him seem, not smaller, but more curled in on himself. The defensiveness rolls off Steve, it's like a shield Danny could physically walk into if he'd try. 

He opens his mouth, closes it again, tries to find some way to explain that doesn't sound irreparably stupid or cheesy. "I was looking for you," he says again, and holds up a hand to forestall the objection he can see Steve gearing up for. "Look, the NCIS paid me a visit, so I know the Navy knows, okay, and I--" He sighs. "Fuck, Steve, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Steve says, expression shuttered, reply on default.

Danny gestures impatiently. "Yeah, no, really, tell me that again so I'll believe it."

There's a flicker of life in Steve's weary gaze. "What do you want me to say, Danny? My life is shit? Fine, there you have it, my life is shit. You had a part in it, so pat yourself on the back and get the fuck out of here."

"Steve..." Danny looks at him, at the anger, the red rimmed eyes, the way Steve looks away when Danny meets his gaze, and says, "I'm sorry about what happened, babe."

Steve frowns. "You come all this way to tell me that? Congratulations, you can turn around again, you're done."

"No, I didn't-- Will you stop and listen to me for one second, please? One second, Steve, that's all I ask, jesus, they really did a number on you, didn't they?"

" _They_ did?" The tight fury Steve's been holding on to explodes, and Danny can feel the force of it, remembers the force of it with a painful tightening of his chest. "They weren't the only ones, Danny, fuck you. You walked out on me, and now that I'm finally trying to fix the fucking mess you left behind, you show up again? No, just no, I'm not letting you do this."

"I'm sorry," Danny offers, and takes a step forward. 

Steve holds up a hand. "Don't."

"I'm not doing anything. Steve--"

Steve crosses his arms. "Why are you here, Danny?"

Danny sucks in a deep breath and jumps in the deep end. "I miss you."

Steve's scathing laugh is painful. "You miss me? What do you miss, Danny, a quick fuck? A guy in your bed? The excitement of an affair?"

"We're getting a divorce."

"Oh, that's it, I'm second best, huh? Not interested, Danny, go home."

Danny waves a hand at him. "Would you just--"

"Would I what, Danny? Come on, tell me." Steve points a finger at him. "Give me one good reason why I should listen to a word you say."

"Look, I appreciate that you don't want to see me again. And I know what this looks like, babe, I do, okay? But..." He takes a deep breath. "My marriage ended a few months ago. I didn't hop straight onto a plane here; you're not my second choice. This was never about a choice."

"You didn't make it sound like that when you broke it off."

"I know. But I _married_ her. Do you understand? That was a promise I made years ago, and she had to come first. Rachel and Gracie... they were my life." He can see how much his words are hurting Steve, because for all that Steve is trying to hide it, Danny knows him too well. "I'd be a jerk if I hadn't tried, Steve."

"Yeah." Steve breathes out slowly, rubs a hand over his mouth. "Danny, I--"

"What?"

"I can't do this. There's... too much happened."

"Okay." Danny nods slowly. "I'm a free man, Steve. I walked away from you because I loved you, not the other way around."

"That doesn't--" Steve breaks off, turns away for a second, and Danny can feel his hands itch, has to lock his knees to stay in place and not go to Steve. "I don't know."

"I get that you're angry," Danny offers, feeling empty. 

Steve turns back to him. "You bet your ass I'm angry. You could have fucking warned me."

"I tried calling you after-- but your phone was cut off."

"Yeah." Steve breathes out slowly. "You want a beer?"

"I could do with a drink," Danny says, giving him a soft smile. Steve nods, walks towards the kitchen area, and Danny doesn't step aside to let him pass. Steve's fingers brush his and he has to squeeze his eyes shut against the flash of want at the contact, the warm skin, the familiar smell of Steve's aftershave. 

Steve continues as if nothing happened, comes back with two bottles of beer. "You better sit down."

Danny sits obediently on the sofa, sips his drink. "I thought about getting in touch first, but I thought you might not want to see me."

"Yeah." Steve perches on the armrest on the other end of the couch, and drinks some beer. 

"And I thought, maybe..."

Steve glances at him. "What?" 

Danny grimaces. "That maybe there was someone else."

Steve looks away, stares at his feet. "There's no one now."

Danny can't help the sigh of relief. He watches Steve's profile, and with the anger gone, Steve is sagging, making Danny's heart clench. "Babe."

Steve meets his eyes. "I told you not to call me that."

"Yeah, and I do it anyway," Danny says. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, fuck you." Steve drinks some more beer, stares at the floor. "Danny..."

"Yeah?"

"I know there were two of us in this thing, but..." He glances sideways, meets Danny's eyes. "I know I don't have the right to be angry with you, not this much, anyway, but... I can't be around you. I can't do this."

Danny nods, puts his half-drunk bottle on the table and stands. "Okay. Okay, I understand."

"Thank you." Steve bends his head, worries the carpet with his toe, and Danny longs to touch him, just for a second, puts a hand on Steve's shoulder. 

Steve looks up as he knocks his hand away, staring at Danny with eyes burning. The next moment, he's up off the sofa and crowding Danny back until he hits the wall, leaning in and kissing him, hard. Danny manages to stop himself from flailing in surprise, lands one hand on Steve's hip and wraps the other around his shoulders, hauling him close and kissing him back. Steve ducks his head to kiss Danny's cheek, finds that spot under his jaw and worries at it with his teeth. 

" _Danny_..." Steve's voice breaks a little on his name. "Oh god, Danny, _please_."

"Hey," Danny says softly, "right here, come on."

Steve mouths at his jaw, travels up and rubs his nose into Danny's hair. "Stay. Tonight, please, stay the night."

Danny puts a hand on Steve's chest, shoves him away just enough that he can look him in the eye, and he can feel Steve's heart racing under his palm. Steve looks down and bites his lip, but Danny can see the desperation in his gaze when he focuses back on Danny. "Okay," Danny says, because he can't refuse this, could never refuse Steve, "okay, I'll stay."

Steve kisses him again, crowds him against the wall, and Danny can feel his neck muscles strain at the angle. "Babe," he murmurs against Steve's mouth, "too tall, you haven't shrunk in the mean time."

Steve only makes a frustrated sound, peels himself away and drags Danny with him. Danny catches a brief glimpse of a bedroom that's smaller than his crappy hotel room, and then Steve is pushing him down on a bed and Danny pulls him down with him. Steve follows blindly, straining after him in a way that brings back memories, and Danny slides fingers up into Steve's hair, and Steve shudders in his arms. 

"Okay, babe?"

"Don't," Steve manages between kisses, "don't ask."

"Okay." Danny kisses him once more for reassurance, sets about peeling Steve's t-shirt off. As soon as he tugs at the hem, Steve sits up and pulls it off in one graceful move. Danny's mouth goes dry and he runs both hands up Steve's chest, slides one up over a tattoo. Steve turns his head and kisses his fingers, and Danny squeezes his eyes shut for a second. When he blinks them open, Steve is watching him, eyes blazing. 

Danny pushes himself up on his elbows to yank his own t-shirt off, and he doesn't miss the way Steve swallows and looks. "Hey," Danny says softly, "what do you want?"

Steve looms over him, comes back for another kiss, tongue probing into Danny's mouth and Danny gives as good as he gets, lets Steve drive him crazy. Steve's body is tense over his, like he doesn't want to relax into this yet, and Danny runs a hand down his side, teases fingers at Steve's waistband. 

Steve bucks into him with a soft groan, and Danny smiles into the kiss, making Steve pull away. He stares into Danny's eyes, panting, and Danny continues smiling. He uses his free hand to run a finger over the corner of Steve's mouth, and up to stroke his soft hair from his forehead. Steve turns his head away, and Danny drops his hand. 

Steve's voice is hoarse. "Danny..." 

"Tell me," Danny says softly, "what you need." Steve shakes his head, bites his lip, and Danny remembers him like this, holding back and curled in on himself, and he hates that they're back there. "Hey. You want me here, I'm here."

Steve nods. "I know, I know."

"Then come on, it's yours. Whatever you need." Danny reaches out again, slides his hand into Steve's hair again, feels Steve tense against him. He has to bite his lip not to say anything, not to ask questions that'll only scare Steve away.

Steve swallows. "Fuck me. Need you in me, Danny, I--"

Danny surges up to kiss him, whole body thrumming with need at those words, pulling Steve close until he can feel every inch of Steve against him. "You got it, babe."

"Can't-- shouldn't--"

"Can. Should. No one here but us." Danny watches him, holds Steve's eyes. 

"Yeah," Steve says. He sits up, reaches under the bed, and digs out lube and condoms. For a moment, Danny wonders if he's the only one Steve ever had sex with in this bed, and a flash of jealousy runs through him. He grits his teeth and doesn't ask, not his business.

He runs a hand down Steve's back, cups his ass and squeezes, and Steve bucks into him with a groan. Danny moves his hands up and pushes down the sweatpants Steve is wearing, takes his boxers along with it. Steve pushes up, and Danny gets distracted by his arms, mouths at Steve's bicep and the green swirls of ink curving over his skin. Steve says his name, somewhere distant, the blood roaring in Danny's ears making it hard to hear. He recovers himself and continues undressing Steve, watches as Steve kicks off the pants and socks he's wearing. 

Steve's hands are already on Danny's belt, and he lets Steve unfasten it, watches as Steve pulls them down and takes his underwear with it, and Steve licks his lips, shifts down a bit and leans over to take Danny in his mouth. 

Danny's hips nearly come off the bed, and he flails, lands one hand in Steve's hair. "Oh, jesus, fuck."

Steve pulls off and looks at him with a grin, so self satisfied and smug Danny says, "One day I will spank your ass, I swear." There's a flash of something in Steve's gaze, but before Danny can ask it's gone, and Steve is mouthing his way up Danny's chest, sucking a bruise high on his stomach. Danny cards his fingers through Steve's hair. "You got a plan about how you want this, babe?"

Steve ignores him, dives back in for another kiss, and Danny strokes a hand over Steve's back, down over his ass, and trails a finger between his cheeks. Steve freezes, makes a sound into Danny's mouth, then gropes around the bed till he finds the lube and passes it blindly to Danny. 

"Ah, thank you," Danny says cheerfully, uncapping the tube and slicking up his fingers. When he presses a finger into Steve's body, he feels him clench, feels the sudden tension in the rest of Steve. "Been a while?"

Steve glares at him. 

"Didn't mean to insult you there," Danny says happily, and carefully moves his finger in slow, gentle circles. "This good for you?"

Steve's face is set in a mask and he bites his lip, and _oh_ , Danny remembers this and he still doesn't like it. 

"Still not a race, tough guy," he says affectionately, using his free hand to run a thumb over Steve's shoulder.

Steve turns his head to rub his cheek against Danny's fingers. He breathes in slowly. "I'm good, Danny."

"I have my finger inside you," Danny reminds him. "I can tell you are far from good, Steven."

"I don't care, just--"

"I care," Danny snaps, pulling his hand back, sitting up a little. "Hey." He tilts Steve's chin up. "We do this, I'm not hurting you because you have some issues to work out."

"Okay, okay." Steve sits up. "Just--" He makes a gesture in lieu of saying the actual words. 

"Good." Danny runs a hand over Steve's back. "Hands and knees for you, and try to relax this time, yeah?"

Steve sighs as if he's very put upon, and Danny would have words with him about that if he wasn't seriously turned on and hard. The bed is small, but he manages to shift around without falling off so that he's behind Steve, and slicks up his fingers again. He hears Steve's breathing quicken when he slides a finger back in, works him loose, making him relax incrementally. 

" _Danny_..."

"I've got you, babe." He presses a kiss to Steve's back, adds a second finger. "Relax for me."

He does, and something about his compliance sends a thrill through Danny. It feels a little like he's flying, this not being what he expected when he woke up this morning and yet everything he wanted, and having Steve under his hands, falling apart slowly, is where Danny wants to stay forever. 

He presses a kiss between Steve's shoulder blades, and feels Steve shudder. For a moment, he regrets the position they're in, wishes he could see Steve's face. "Babe," he says softly, his heart full of everything, his voice a little rough. 

Steve reaches back with one hand, blindly, and Danny grabs it, brings Steve's fingers to his mouth, pressing kisses to the palm of Steve's hand. "Danny."

"Yeah."

"God, I never-- please."

The desperation in Steve's voice could kill Danny if he'd let it. "You good?"

"Yeah." Steve's voice is hoarse. "Yeah, do it."

"Okay." Danny lets go of his hand, kisses Steve's skin, and reaches for the condoms with a shaking hand. It's as familiar as breathing to roll one on and press slowly inside, to listen to the soft, suppressed sounds that Steve makes, the way he sighs and hisses a little. Danny slides a hand around his chest and pulls Steve up against him, until Steve leans back and tips his head onto Danny's shoulder. 

Danny closes his eyes, leans in to kiss Steve's exposed throat by mere feel, swallowing hard. He doesn't say what's on his tongue, instead runs his teeth over the stubble under Steve's jaw. He pulls out slowly and slides back in, listens to the way Steve's breathing hitches, the only sound in the room as he holds still, buried inside Steve. Steve's fingers tighten around his hand. "Danny, please."

He doesn't recall it being so easy to reduce Steve to begging, moves his hips to the sound of Steve's soft grunts, keeps one arm firmly wrapped around his chest. There's something about this version of Steve, slightly broken instead of mildly bent as Danny recalls him, that is slowly threatening to break his heart. 

Steve gasps his name and Danny drops his free hand to Steve's dick, wrapping sure fingers around him and stroking him in counterpoint to his thrusts. Steve turns his head, buries his nose in Danny's hair, fingers squeezing so hard on Danny's arm he knows Steve's going to leave marks. 

"I've got you," Danny promises. "I've got you, babe, it's okay."

Steve makes a sound like a denial, presses his face against the side of Danny's head, and Danny ups the pace, feels Steve's breath come in fast gasps against his skin. 

"Let go," Danny implores softly, "I'm right here."

"Danny-- can't--"

"Ssh." He's close, grits his teeth to stop himself from tipping over too soon, tightens his grip on Steve and thrusts in one more time. Steve comes with a strangled sob, bends his head down low, and Danny kisses his cheek as he comes with a final thrust. 

They stay still for a few seconds, Danny catching his breath, Steve still and quiet in his embrace. Danny lets him go slowly, and Steve slides bonelessly away from him as Danny pulls out. He disposes of the condom, comes back to find Steve lying on his side and staring at the wall. 

"Babe," Danny says softly, and his voice nearly fails on him, "hey, you can't sleep like this." He tugs the covers out from under Steve, runs a hand over his flank as he slides in behind him. "Hey." He presses a kiss to Steve's shoulder. "You okay?"

Steve's voice is flat. "Yeah."

Danny puts an arm around him, buries his nose in the hair in Steve's neck, where it begins to curl because it's slightly too long. "Sleep, babe. We'll sort it out in the morning."

Steve shivers.

\--

When he wakes, there's sunlight peeking into the room, and Steve is no longer in bed with him. Danny blinks a few times, struggles to sit up and finds Steve at the foot end of the bed, buttoning up his uniform shirt. 

Danny blinks again. 

Steve glances at him, face unreadable, eyes sliding away as he continues to do up the buttons.

Danny gestures, coughs, and says, "What the hell, babe?"

Steve frowns. "I have to go to work."

"Work," Danny repeats slowly. "I thought, uh, I thought the Navy kicked you to the curb. I mean--"

Steve winces and Danny stops talking. "They have," Steve says, meeting Danny's eyes. 

"Then what?" Danny struggles to sit up properly, runs a hand through his hair to try and flatten it. 

"It takes time, Danny, to complete an administrative separation."

The official words sting, and Danny can't imagine how much they must sting for Steve. "So, wait, they're going to fire you, but they're dragging their asses about it?"

"Pretty much."

Danny gapes, flails around for words. "Okay, so why, what..."

Steve straightens his uniform shirt. "In the mean time, I'm on desk duty until the DOD signs off on my discharge."

"Steve." Danny's mouth is dry. "Oh, man."

Steve looks away. "I knew it was going to happen. Risk I took, I guess."

 _No_. Danny balks at the idea, at the look on Steve's face, at the injustice, at everything. He opens his mouth, but there are no words.

"I've got to go," Steve says. "So if you could let yourself out." He turns and leaves the room, and Danny struggles out from under the covers, follows him into the living room. 

"Steve."

Steve turns, face set in a mask, frowning, eyes tight, and Danny takes a step towards him. Steve holds up a hand. "Don't. I have to go to work, I can't--"

Danny nods. "Okay. But babe--"

Steve peers at him from under his eyelashes.

"Fuck them," Danny says. "Seriously, _fuck_ them." Steve doesn't twitch a muscle, and Danny's heart breaks, slowly. Of all the things he was expecting when he came here, this was not one of them. "Can I see you?"

Steve nods slowly. "Yeah. I'll call you."

"Okay," Danny says, feeling bereft and hollow when Steve shuts the door behind himself.

\--

He scribbles his contact information in a note that he leaves on Steve's kitchen counter, and returns to his hotel to lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. There's a fury making its way up from his chest, about damage done and things that are unfair, and if Danny would let it loose he could destroy things. 

He doesn't; spends the day buying postcards for Grace, stumbling over a stuffed dolphin that is too cute to ignore, and returns to the room to stare at its white walls again. 

Steve calls around eight. "Come over," is all he says. 

"I'll be right there," Danny replies, and goes.

\--

Steve opens the door without a word, steps aside to let Danny in, and closes it behind him. 

"Hello to you, too," Danny says with a smile. Steve only looks at him, eyes boring into Danny's, and when he steps closer and crowds Danny back against the door, Danny is ready for him, kisses him back. "Missed you too, babe."

Steve merely growls at him, presses back in and kisses him some more, one hand sliding down and cupping Danny's ass, pulling him closer. 

"If you think--" Danny manages between kisses, "that I'm going to wrap my legs around your waist right here--" Steve bucks against him "--you are crazy." Steve ignores him, doesn't reply, but it doesn't deter Danny. "Bed, Steve, I have standards."

"Shut up, Danny."

"I'll have you know," Danny says with a pointed finger, "people think I'm charming. Everyone but you, Steven."

Steve leans back, one hand against the door beside Danny's head. "If I blow you, will you stop talking?"

Danny blinks and grins. "Yeah, I can do that."

Steve slides to his knees without preamble, and Danny settles a hand in his hair automatically, his dick twitching in his pants as Steve undoes his belt. 

"You call me here so you can suck my dick, babe? I could get used to that."

Steve presses his face into Danny's groin, nuzzling softly, breath hot through the fabric of Danny's boxers. Danny can't help the soft groan that makes its way out of his throat, and he can feel Steve shudder where he's pressed against Danny's thigh. 

Something is wrong, everything is wrong, and Danny tries to focus, reaches down to tip Steve's face up and meets his eyes, liquid with emotion and everything Steve is trying to deny, the conflict so clearly written on his face that Danny's heart shatters. "Steve..."

"I want this," Steve says, as if Danny's apprehension is clearly visible, and maybe it is. 

"Okay," Danny replies, thumbs at the corner of Steve's mouth. 

Steve licks the digit, making Danny smile, and Steve's answering grin is kind of beautiful. He runs his mouth along the outline of Danny's cock, and Danny bucks his hips, making Steve hold him in place as he peels him out of his underpants. 

"Jesus," Danny whispers, and then loses the ability to form words altogether when Steve slides his mouth, hot and wet, over his cock. He watches himself slide in and out of Steve's mouth, can feel the strength in Steve's arm as he holds him down, and everything spirals together to make Danny come embarrassingly quickly. His legs feel like jelly as Steve pulls off and wipes his mouth, picking himself awkwardly up off the floor. 

Danny pulls him in, buries his face against Steve's neck. "Danny," Steve says, and his voice is rough. 

"Yeah, babe, right here." He presses a quick kiss against Steve's cheek. "You okay? You need me to help you out there?"

"Later," Steve says, making Danny eye the bulge tenting the front of his trousers with raised eyebrows. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah, I ate. You?"

"I grabbed something." Steve runs a hand through his hair, steps back carefully. "Want a beer?"

"Sure." Danny looks him up and down surreptitiously as Steve goes to get the drinks, and follows him to the couch, the only place to sit in the room. Steve hands over one of the bottles silently and Danny takes a sip. 

"Danny, I--" Steve glances sideways. "Look, have you thought about this?"

Danny shifts a little so he can face him. "Beyond coming here? Not much, but that doesn't mean I don't want to think about it."

Steve rubs a hand over his face. "Because I-- I can't do another week and then let you go again. Danny, it's-- I can't, okay?"

"Hey, hey." Danny tries to reach out, but Steve pulls back, so he drops his hand. "I'm not jerking you around, if that's what you're thinking. I'm serious here."

"Yeah, I know, but--" Steve sighs. "I know I was the one who dropped in and out of your life, so... I guess I'm finally learning what that means."

"For what it's worth," Danny says slowly, "I never held that against you. We both knew what we were getting into."

Steve shakes his head. "I don't think I did."

Danny raises an eyebrow. "Babe..."

"Sorry." Steve glances at him. "Yeah, I knew. It just didn't work out the way I thought it did."

"And I'm sorry about that, Steve, you've got to believe me."

"I know." Steve nods. "I believe you, Danny."

"Okay." Danny smiles. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours then, because I'm here and I'm telling you I'm willing to give this a chance, and you're... I don't know what's up with you."

"I don't know if I can, Danny."

"Tell me?"

"Do this." Steve looks at him. "I-- for so long, I've-- I can't do this again."

Danny holds his gaze. "You are not losing me. At the end of this, there's you and me, you realize that? And I don't know if that means we'll work out, but Steve, I want to give this a chance, because when we're together we're amazing."

Steve ducks his head. 

"Unless," Danny says slowly, sense of dread looming, "you don't think we are and you're in it for the great sex."

Steve blows out a long breath. "The sex is good."

"Yeah." 

"Danny, I--" Steve glances at him. "I don't know, okay?"

"Okay." Danny nods. "If you don't mind me saying, I'm getting some mixed messages here. Last night, you didn't want me around and then you jumped me, now I come in and you're on me and the next thing I know, you're telling me you don't want this."

"You didn't exactly say no."

Danny gestures in annoyance. "I'm not gonna say no! I love you, you fucking jerk. I don't know where that'll take us, but I'm right here, so you wanna get with the program?"

Steve swallows hard and gets up, walking to the window and staring outside before looking back at Danny. "You walked out on me."

Danny gets up as well. "You knew I was going to."

"Yeah, but--"

"But what, Steve?"

Steve leans back against the glass. "You made me love you first." He glances down at his feet. "Fuck, Danny, I didn't know--"

"Didn't know _what_?" Danny comes around the couch, stands two feet away from Steve, wishing he could reach out, tip his head up, and make him spill his secrets. 

Steve looks up, eyes burning. "I didn't know it would hurt that much, okay?"

"Babe..." Danny has nothing else, the endearment spilling from his lips. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

Steve shakes his head. "You're right, I knew."

"Yeah, no." Danny feels his heart break anew. "Not like that, babe, you didn't know. We-- I should have been more careful, we were doomed and I knew it, and I let it go on, I should have--"

"I was there, Danny. I didn't say no."

"But you're saying no now," Danny can't help but say. 

"I don't-- I can't--"

"Steve, right now, what do you want? Damn the consequences, damn everything, right now, what is it you want?"

Steve shrugs helplessly, and Danny sighs, finally just turning on his feet and heading for the door. 

" _Danny_."

Steve's voice sounds strangled, as if he's forcing Danny's name past resistance and issues and everything standing between them, and when Danny turns to face him, he can feel the abject misery rolling off Steve. He stops.

"Right now, what do you want?"

"Stay," Steve says.

Danny goes to him, pulls him in, feels the resistance leech out of Steve as he comes into the circle of Danny's arms, feels him shudder helplessly against Danny until he buries his face against Danny's neck and Danny cards his fingers through Steve's hair. 

\--

When they end up in the darkness of Steve's bedroom, Steve raw with emotion and Danny not that far behind, in a bed more than a little too small for the two of them, Danny says, "How bad is it, really?"

"What?"

"Whatever it is that you're not telling me. Whatever it is that has you so on edge."

"There's nothing."

Danny scoffs. "The last time I saw you like this was when you came over that one day, back in May. You were a mess then and you're a mess now, and I'll take some responsibility because yeah, hey, it wasn't my finest hour, breaking up with you, but I didn't do all of this, did I?"

"I guess not." Danny noses at Steve's hair and runs a finger over his chest. "There's just a lot going on, Danny."

"Okay..." Danny kisses his temple, the corner of his eye, slides his mouth over a cheekbone. 

"Danny."

"Hmm?"

"It's nothing, let it go."

"Okay," Danny says again, smiling a little. 

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Steve pulls away, pushing up on one elbow, looking at Danny. "What did you think, that after the Navy fired me I would just welcome you back into my life?"

Danny puts a hand on Steve's shoulder, where he knows the tattoo is, feels Steve tense under his hand. "Babe, I really wish I could have been there for you."

"Yeah, well, you were busy getting a divorce." The bitterness in Steve's voice makes Danny lean in and press his mouth to Steve's skin. "You can't kiss and make it better, Danny."

"I'm not trying to," Danny replies. "I know you've gone through a lot, I wasn't expecting this to be easy. But I couldn't," he looks up and holds Steve's eyes for this part, willing him to believe the truth, "walk away and never try. I couldn't leave you behind like a distant past, Steve, and pretend you meant nothing to me."

Steve leans over and kisses him, Danny slides a hand into his hair as he kisses him back, and Steve makes a sound against his mouth. "Danny... god, I missed you."

"I'm here," Danny says helplessly. "I'm here now, babe."

\--

When he wakes and wanders out into the living room, Steve is eating breakfast standing up at the kitchen counter, uniform already on. Danny can't help the way his eyes slide up and down Steve's body, meets Steve's gaze and smiles. "Morning."

Steve's face is tense and his voice is not far behind. "Morning."

Danny goes over, reaches up for a kiss. Steve tastes like banana and yoghurt, mouth slack under Danny's. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm off to work soon. You can stay here if you like."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." Steve shrugs. "What am I gonna do, Danny? Pretend I don't want you around? You know I do."

Danny squints at him hesitantly. "I don't want to make things harder on you, babe."

"It doesn't make a difference whether I know you're downtown or right here. As long as you're on the island, I'm gonna want to see you." Steve sighs. "I'll deal with everything else later, I guess."

Danny doesn't like the sound of that. "Everything else?" 

"The fallout, whatever." Steve eats another spoonful of what looks like granola. "I'll survive, Danny, don't worry about me."

"I think it's time someone did," Danny shoots back. 

Steve looks away, sets his bowl down in the sink. "I've got to go to work. Move your stuff here if you want to, there's a spare set of keys in the kitchen drawer."

He's out the door before Danny can respond.

\--

It doesn't take long to pack up his bag and check out of his hotel, head back to Steve's place and dump the bag there. He sets it by the door, isn't sure what to do now that he's here except to wait, so he goes back out into the warm air, strolls around the city until the glare of the sunlight becomes too much and he goes back.

Steve comes home in the early evening, still in uniform, making Danny's mouth water as he watches him come in. He moves stiffly, tiredly, and Danny remembers that, remembers how Steve can get. 

"Hey," he says softly, getting up from the sofa. 

Steve stops by the door, pushes it shut behind himself and leans back against it, blowing out a long breath. Danny goes over, takes a look at the dark circles under Steve's eyes, and pulls him into a hug. Steve relaxes against him, noses at Danny's hair, and Danny says, "I would send you to bed right now, looking the way you do, if I thought you would go."

Steve pulls back. "Wouldn't sleep anyway."

"When's the last time you got some proper rest?"

"Danny, I--" Steve makes a gesture, steps around him and heads for the kitchen area. "It doesn't matter, okay?"

"I think it does," Danny replies. "When's the last time someone took care of you, huh? And don't tell me you don't need it, you're a fucking mess."

Steve leans his hands on the kitchen counter, hangs his head. "Fuck you, Danny."

"Ah, no, you see, this deflecting thing is not going to work with me, okay?"

Steve pushes off, turns to face him. "What do you want me to say? You already know everything. My career is over, you live all the way across the country and I love you, Danny, so fucking much I don't know what to do with myself. But there is nothing, none of this, that can be fixed, okay? I'm still the guy who fucked up and got caught."

"Got caught?" Danny echoes. "Got caught? Steve, fuck that, fuck them! What the hell does it matter who you sleep with?"

"It matters. I knew it mattered, so it's my own fault."

"No. _No_." Danny shakes his head, sucks in enough air past his anger to be able to respond. "This is not your fault, what did they expect you to do? The rules are stupid, babe, you know that."

"That doesn't change anything."

"No, it fucking well doesn't." Danny clenches his hands to fists, thinks purposefully not about what happened, what Steve went through, what's actually going on, because if he does, he won't be able to see straight for his anger. "The Navy shouldn't care that you're gay, I--"

"I'm not--"

Danny freezes, stares at Steve who stares back, the automatic denial hanging between them. 

"Danny, I-- Look, I don't know what I am, I can't--" 

Steve chokes on his own words, and Danny can't make himself go to him, fights with his own anger. "You gotta make up your mind, babe. What you want and what you need, and what you're gonna do next. I can't do that for you."

Steve slams his hand down against the counter. "I don't know. I have no fucking clue." He takes a long, shuddering breath, is silent for a long time, and then says in a low voice, "Danny, they were waiting for me. I came home from a mission and they were waiting for me, every piece of evidence right there, phone bills, my credit card, the airline tickets. Witness statements, and I kept waiting for your name but they said you had refused to give a statement."

"Yeah, well," Danny says in spite of himself, "they were a bunch of fuckers."

"There was nothing I could do. You know, my commander wouldn't believe me." Steve's dry laugh is painful. "Kept saying someone was setting me up. I confessed, because what was the point? They knew." He looks up. "Didn't keep you out of trouble, I guess."

Danny shrugs. "Me and my career are cool, Steve."

Steve nods, takes that in his stride. "I'm not-- This is not about sympathy because I hear you, but I did know what I signed up for, I just-- They told my _dad_ , Danny. I couldn't even do that. They-- they-- they _outed_ me to my dad, and they threw me out of the SEALs, and it took less than a month for it to all be over."

Danny's anger is at war with the way his heart swells in his chest, and he swallows down the lump in his throat, the one that's threatening to cut off his ability to speak. "Steve..."

Steve shakes his head. "Commander's a friend of my dad, got me this posting until my time's up. I guess they made me stop running in the end."

The twist of his mouth doesn't sit right with Danny, none of this sits right with Danny, not the way Steve is treating it as normal, not the way he just stands there, as if it's all okay. "When's the last time you sat down and processed, Steven?"

"I can't--"

"You'll have to at some point."

"I don't have to right now," Steve says obstinately. 

Danny makes an impatient gesture. "You wanna stay in limbo, that's a nice place to be, babe, but the rest of us are moving on. You gonna move with me, or what?"

"I can't do this!"

"What's holding you back?" Danny yells back. "What, really? You can't be gay? You are! I'm sorry the Navy treated you like shit, I really, really am, you fucking break my heart, and I know, I can tell, that you're pulling this shit because you're terrified."

"I'm not--"

"What? Finish that sentence for me, but look me in the eye when you do it, Steve."

Steve looks at him, takes a deep breath, blows it out again and stays silent. Finally he says, "This can't work."

"We have issues to work out, I agree," Danny makes a gesture around the room, "geography being one of them. You may need to spend some quality time with a therapist, don't give me that look, this isn't magically fixable just because you want it to. But the bigger question is whether you want to try to make it work." He holds Steve's eyes. "If you're too scared to even try, Steve, there's no point for me to be here, because we really will break each other's hearts at the end of this week."

Steve holds up a hand. "I can't do this right now, Danny."

"Because what, you'll fall apart? Newsflash, tough guy, you've been waiting to do that for months."

Steve grabs his keys off the counter. "I'm going out."

"Steve." Danny takes a step forward to stop him, but Steve pulls away. "Steve!"

The door slams shut.

\--

When Steve returns, two hours later, he's antsy and keyed up, and Danny doesn't quite manage to get up off the sofa before Steve is leaning over him to kiss him. Danny kisses back, then pushes him away gently. 

"Sex is your answer to everything, isn't it? That's cute, babe."

"Shut up, Danny."

"Yeah, I haven't heard that one before." He looks at Steve, tilts his head, and finally says, "Okay, babe, let's do this. I want you, you want me; we can worry about the rest in the morning."

It feels good to lose himself in Steve's eager mouth, feels fucking fantastic to have Steve's weight on top of him and nothing else to worry about, and somewhere in the back of Danny's mind, something niggles about how he could have this all the time, how this is what they could be like together, and it spurs Danny on, makes him run his hands over Steve's skin as he strips him out of the uniform. He hates that thing, hates what it stands for and hates how much Steve loves it, and he buries that thought, licks Steve's arm, bites gently at the tattoos, first left, then right, until the thought has leeched from his mind. 

Steve gives as good as he gets, undresses Danny with steady fingers, sucks a bruise under Danny's jaw, teeth running over stubble and it feels perfect, a little like flying. Danny wants this, wants him, too much, pours himself into it so he can forget he might lose it tomorrow. Steve rocks against him, both their trousers still around their ankles but it doesn't matter, Danny throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. 

Steve takes them both in hand together and Danny manages to get a hand in between their bodies to help, and Steve stares at him, holds his gaze as Danny strains up until Steve is out of focus and he can kiss him, messily, dirty, tongue running over Steve's teeth, lower lip, until Steve growls against his mouth and kisses him properly. 

"I never want to stop wanting you," Danny says, his voice rough to his own ears. 

Steve says nothing, bites his lip, thrusts two more times before he comes over both their hands. Danny follows him soon after, and Steve buries his face against Danny's neck, stays still like that as sweat chills their skin.

\--

He wakes in the middle of the night, grateful that they've moved to the bed before really going to sleep, and Steve's arm is around his waist, Steve's nose buried against the back of his head. When he shifts minutely, Steve whispers his name. 

"Yeah." He feels a kiss pressed against his neck, shivers minutely at it. 

"You cold?"

"No, I'm good." He finds Steve's hand where it lies against his stomach and squeezes Steve's fingers. 

"Danny..." Steve's voice is low and hoarse, the hesitance barely audible. "Tell me where we would live."

He forces himself to keep breathing normally, tries to find the strength to talk about a future he barely dares envision. "We'd get a place, babe. Doesn't have to be big, but the bedroom would fit a double bed."

Steve rubs his nose through Danny's hair. 

"And an extra bedroom for Gracie, because my baby girl would stay over, you'll love her, Steve, you should meet her." He thinks about Grace and Steve in the same room, two of his favorite people, and his heart feels like it could burst. 

"I'd like to," Steve says softly.

"Little backyard for summer barbecues." Danny rubs a thumb over the back of Steve's hand. "You'd come home in the evening, and I--" He has to stop talking, can't force words past the lump in his throat, hates the hope that is climbing into his chest. "Steve, don't make me--"

"Okay." Danny feels Steve's breath against his hair. "Just wanted to know if you thought about it."

Danny blinks against the stinging of his eyes. "Yeah, I thought about it."

Steve tightens his embrace. "Go back to sleep, Danny."

Danny obediently closes his eyes.

\--

Danny watches him as he gets up in the morning, watches the way Steve's shoulders hunch, the way he seems to drag himself around, until he puts on the uniform, buttons it up, pins insignia and ribbons onto the tan fabric and consciously straightens up. The effort it seems to take makes Danny sit up, and Steve glances at him. 

"I've got to go to work."

"I know, babe."

Steve combs his hair to one side, making it lie tragically flat. "I'll be back this evening." 

"Okay."

He's about to leave the bedroom, so Danny holds out a hand, and Steve stops. "What?"

"Come here and give me a kiss."

Steve twitches, almost like he wants to look over his shoulder, and then comes to kneel by the bed. Danny pulls him in, kisses him until Steve leans into it, and puts his hand on Steve's chest. "Keep that there. And I'll see you tonight."

Steve blinks and swallows. 

"Go," Danny says, waving him off. Steve leaves obediently, looking a little shell-shocked, and Danny turns over when he hears the door slam, mashing his face into the pillow.


	12. Chapter 12

Steve comes in, slams the door behind himself, walks over to the fridge and gets a beer. He pauses, looks over his shoulder to locate Danny, who is smiling at him in bemusement, and says, "You want one?"

"Yeah, sure." Danny raises both eyebrows at him. "Good day at work, babe?"

"Shut up." Steve walks over to the couch, hands a bottle off to Danny, and sits down heavily. He drains half his beer, glances at the bottle as if to see if it has answers.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Yeah."

"What do they have you do, anyway? Or is it classified?"

Steve shrugs. "Desk job. Stupid work."

Danny has a few choice thoughts about how being gay doesn't change your ability to handle sensitive data, but he bites down on them. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"A lesser man might say--"

Steve holds up a hand. "Not funny, Danny."

Danny bites his lip. "Sorry." 

Steve finishes his drink, puts the bottle down on the table a little harder than necessary and gets up. "I'm gonna get a shower."

Danny watches him, tries to decide what's best and finally just says, "You want company?"

Steve frowns. "No offence, but I'm not in the mood."

Danny nods. "Okay. We don't have to--" He smiles and makes a wagging motion with his hand, watches Steve's face for the twitch of his eyebrows. 

"I can take a shower by myself, Danny."

Danny sighs in irritation. "Yeah, tough guy, I know you can. Sometimes it's just easier if there's someone there to distract you from that thundercloud that's clearly hanging over your head."

He would have let it go, if it weren't for the way Steve bites his lip, the obvious internal battle playing out on his face. "Danny, I don't need--"

Danny gets up, waves a hand at him. "Would you just, for once in your life, allow yourself to lean on someone else? I remember you did that once, and I know you did it for me more than once back in Brooklyn, so what is this shit? God, I know you're--"

"Danny--"

Danny completely ignores him. "--utterly terrified and too close to losing your shit, but babe, seriously, you can't live like this. It hurts me to see it, okay? It's like-- when you get up in the morning, it's like I lose you to that uniform and you come back smashed to a pulp and I hate it, okay?"

"Danny--"

Danny points a finger at him. "What? You gonna tell me it's not true and everything is peachy? Don't lie to me. You want a future with me? You can have it, you just need to say the word, babe. You think the Navy's gonna frown at you once you do? They _fired_ you."

Steve looks furious. "Yeah, they fired me, Danny, thanks for throwing that back in my face. What do you want me to do? Make happy families with you for a week and watch you walk away? Nothing changes, and I've done that once already, I can't do it again. That's what I've been telling you, but you walk right over everything I say, because Danny Williams is never fucking wrong, huh?"

Danny sucks in a breath. "It'd be a couple of months! We can work something out, jesus, I know it's not easy but that's what you'll give this up over?"

It's silent for a while, and Steve's voice is rough and low as he replies. "What am I going to do, Danny? The Navy is my life, I don't know how to do anything else. I never wanted to do anything else. They're forcing me out, but--"

He stops talking and it takes Danny a moment, a glance at his face, to realize why; then he's with Steve in two steps and yanking him into a tight hug. "Hey, hey, I know, babe, I know, I know. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Steve is stiff against him, fighting himself, no doubt, not wanting to give in. Danny strokes a hand down his back, and he feels the first tremors as Steve lets go, as the sobs tear through his body, and then he's clinging to Danny, face pressed into Danny's neck. 

"It's okay, babe." Danny uses his free hand to card his fingers through Steve's hair. "I know it hurts, it's okay."

Steve sucks in a breath, seems to want to say something, but he can't manage the words, and Danny pulls him back in, continues to hold him through it. 

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, and his own voice is close to breaking, as is his heart, and his eyes aren't exactly dry. "I'm sorry about all of this, Steve."

Steve's breathing slows down, still shaky as he seems to get himself under control, and he keeps his face hidden against Danny's skin. "I love you," he says, voice rasping, "Danny, I can't do this, I can't do another six months of this, I can't."

"You can," Danny promises him, needing to clear his throat so his voice doesn't fail. "I'm going to be there, Steve." 

Steve nods quietly.

"You gotta believe we have a future, babe. I know you; you can do anything. And I'll be there every second, okay, it might be on the other end of a phone line, but we'll figure out what to do next and where to go, together." He strokes his hand over Steve's hair, feels him turn his head into the touch, and Danny can't help smiling at that. "I know it's hard, I know they're shoving your face in what you can't have, I'm so sorry about that."

Steve lifts his head, steps back and clears his throat. He runs a hand over his eyes and takes a deep breath. His gaze is somewhere over Danny's shoulder when he says, "You really think we can do this?"

"I think," Danny says slowly, "that we're the most imperfect couple alive, but if we've gotten this far, we gotta be able to make it work. And, for the record," he reaches up, puts a finger on Steve's chin and makes him look at him, "I love you too."

Steve's mouth twitches into a semblance of a smile.

"You wanna get that shower now?"

"Only," Steve replies with a shaky breath, "if you come with me."

\--

"How long is it going to take?" Danny asks when they're in the shower, warm water providing an illusion of comfort and containment.

Steve rubs his face. "I don't know."

"You said six months."

"Something like that. Can take longer, they'll let me know when the DOD signs off, and then I'm out."

Danny leans in to kiss a tattoo, because it's right there in front of him and wet, and he can't help himself. Steve twitches a little, but doesn't stop him. "A free man."

Steve doesn't respond to that, turns his head and tips Danny's face up, and Danny kisses him in spite of the strain on his neck. It's a slow kiss, easy and comfortable, the way they are slowly becoming, Danny thinks.

"I couldn't believe it at first," Steve says as they come apart, "I'd already lost you, and there they were, just as I was beginning to think I could manage to forget about you." He noses at Danny's hair, presses a kiss to his temple. "I always thought... don't ask, don't tell, I just won't say anything, and I wasn't really... I mean, I had sex, but--" He kisses Danny's skin again. "No relationships. There was this woman I was seeing sometimes, and the guys thought that-- It doesn't matter."

Danny leans into him, lets Steve talk, listens to the cadences of his voice. 

"I know... I mean, I think I'm gay, I know I have to be honest about that, it just never... It never felt like me, and I-- When we met, you--" He leans back far enough to look Danny in the eye. "You were so honest about it, like you didn't care. Like you weren't afraid people were going to find out."

Danny swallows hard. "I have-- had less to lose than you, babe."

"Yeah, I know, I get that now."

"I'm not--" Danny starts, because he has to say this, but he pauses to think about how to say it. "I don't need you to be open and public about anything. I mean, I know this is not something you've ever done, and Steve... I meant what I said, you need to talk to someone."

Steve snorts and shakes his head. 

"Okay, that's a fight for another day, fine." Danny reaches up, pulls him down, kisses him because he can. "Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Promise me you're not going to freak out again and take this away from me." Danny kisses the corner of his mouth. "A guy can only take so much, Steve."

"I promise. You and me, we're gonna give this a try."

Danny looks at him, tries to imprint in his memory what Steve looks like now; vulnerable, eyelashes clinging together, eyes red rimmed, his hair tussled and curly, his eyes shining as he looks at Danny. "You're going to be the death of me," Danny decides. 

"That's okay," Steve replies, "I know CPR."

"Oh, wow, you're as bad as you always were."

Steve laughs.

\--

In bed, Steve wraps a leg and an arm around Danny, and Danny would feel pinned in place if it wasn't for the way Steve digs his nose into Danny's hair and sighs contentedly. 

"Oh, yeah, babe? This good for you?"

"Shut up, Danny."

Danny wraps a hand around Steve's arm, rubs his thumb over his skin. "I don't mind," he says softly, and Steve burrows closer. "I'll mind when there's a fucking heat wave on, so in future, when we have a proper bed that's ours, I will ban you to your side when that happens, you understand?"

Steve lifts his head to stare at Danny, looking so baffled and confused Danny needs to rewind his own words. 

"Oh, babe. Have a little faith. We will have our own place and our own bed, and it'll be fine."

"Okay." Steve doesn't sound like he believes it yet. 

"Go to sleep," Danny says, because if he doesn't, he might say something ridiculous. "It's the weekend tomorrow, I expect you to show me the sights."

"I'll take you some place special," Steve slurs, digging himself back into what is apparently becoming his favorite spot. 

"I'll hold you to that." Danny closes his eyes, and rests his head against Steve's.

\--

In the morning he watches Steve pack a backpack with all kinds of scary looking things; climbing rope, bottles of water, sandwiches.

"Wait," Danny says, "we're not going to survive in the jungle for a few days, right? You wouldn't do that to me."

Steve looks up with a grin. "Of course not, Danny. We're going hiking."

"Hiking," Danny repeats. 

"Trust me," Steve says, and the smile on his face is dazzling, so Danny fully intends to blame that if things go wrong. 

"Of course," he replies blindly, and Steve looks so gorgeous Danny leans in to kiss him, gets distracted by Steve's hands on him, moves in closer. 

Steve pushes him away slowly. "Come on, we've got to get going."

Danny feels bereft. "We're on a schedule? It's the weekend, babe."

"Yeah, but you don't want to be hiking at the hottest part of the day."

"Oh god," Danny says, "he's a boy scout."

\--

It's great fun to trail after Steve and watch his ass in those cargo pants, until Danny's muscles start complaining about the endless uphill climb. 

"Jesus, I haven't walked this much since I was a rookie."

Steve looks over his shoulder. "You need a break?"

Danny shields his eyes against the glare of the sun. "Would you think less of me if I did?"

Steve smiles. He's relaxed out here, fitting in in a way Danny has never seen him, and there's no one around for miles, which makes it easier on both of them. Danny takes a seat on an outcropping of rocks. "Did you miss this place?"

Steve shrugs. "I guess."

"Never going back, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Would you sit down? You're making me feel old."

Steve snorts, but takes a seat anyway. "You're not old, Danny."

Danny leans into him, subtly. "You don't have to tell me everything now, but I love it when you talk."

"I only talk to shut you up."

Danny knows deflection when he hears it, but he lets it slide. "Do you want to leave Hawaii?"

Steve glances at him. "What?"

Danny waves a hand around. "It's a beautiful place, babe, and I know you didn't choose to come back to it, but... I can feel you belong here."

Steve runs a hand over his mouth. "Danny, I-- I haven't thought about it, okay? I don't know half the time, I just--"

"You're surviving."

Steve makes a face. "I guess."

"I'm saying it because-- I love you, and that doesn't change, but my daughter lives in Jersey and that's where I'm going to be, for her."

Steve nods. "I know, Danny."

Danny takes a deep breath. "What I guess I'm asking you is if you'd be willing to move to Jersey for me."

"I thought that was implied."

"Yeah?" Danny squints to see his face properly in the sun's glare. 

"Danny, you love your kid, you've always... I knew that." Steve looks around. "I guess I'll miss this, but... I'll have you, right?"

"So that's a yes?"

"I don't--" Steve sighs. "I don't have much left except for you."

Danny swears under his breath. "Jesus, babe."

"Maybe you can make me stop running."

Danny sucks in some air, his lungs suddenly feeling empty. "Now you're just getting mushy."

Steve holds his eyes. "You're worth moving to Jersey for."

"Yeah? You say that now, but when it's midwinter and you're freezing your ass off--"

"I reserve the right to yell at you and blame you for the weather."

"I'll happily take the blame," Danny says, and feels a grin splitting his face.

\--

"Petro-whatsits?"

"Petroglyphs, Danny."

"So, basically," Danny gestures at the etchings that dot the hillside, thighs still screaming from the steep climb, "graffiti that's really, really old."

A corner of Steve's mouth twitches, like he can't decide to get angry or to think Danny hilarious. "Something like that."

"And this is what we came here to see."

"Yes."

"Your idea of a romantic date is not the same as mine, babe." Danny smiles to take the sting out of his words. 

"You don't like it?"

"It's nice." Danny takes the time to actually look at the figures sculpted into the rock. "There's people, I can recognize the people, and this is, what is this, Steven?"

" _Honu_."

Danny stares at him. "What?"

"It means turtle."

"Ah." 

Steve points up at the people figures dotted on the wall. "These are symbols of the hunt."

Danny nods, bites his tongue to keep from saying something inane. "You come here a lot?"

"My dad and I used to go every year." Steve looks away, stares off into the valley they just left behind. "We used to go up all the way to the summit, see who got there fastest."

"Yeah? Who used to win?"

"I beat him twice," Steve says, and there's a private smile curving his lips. 

"You two go recently?"

Steve looks at him. "I've only been back a few months."

Danny's fingers are itching to touch him, but Steve's body language screams at him to stay away, so he balls his hands to fists by his side. They're both silent for a while, and Danny studies the petroglyphs some more. Their age is, he's willing to admit, stunning, but he's not quite sure their attraction warrants hiking up here every year. 

He glances at Steve, who's staring off into the distance again. Danny feels like calling him back, but he's not sure he should. He leans back against the rock face until Steve turns around, seems to notice him there, and says, "Okay, let's go."

"Let's go?" Danny echoes. "Go where?"

"The summit."

"Oh my god. You will be the death of me, I swear."

Steve shrugs. "It's good for you."

"Dying? No, babe, dying isn't good for me, you should know that, I mean, what--"

"Shut up, Danny."

"Make me."

Steve crowds him back against the rock, against the petroglyphs, kissing him breathless. Danny pulls him in, hand up into Steve's hair, kisses him some more until they're both panting. "How do you do this," Steve says in between kisses, mouthing at Danny's jaw. 

"Do what?"

"Make me want you, always, god, Danny."

Danny leans back far enough to see his flushed face. "Feeling's mutual, babe."

"I don't need people, not like I need you; you scare me."

"Trust me," Danny says softly.

"I'm trying."

That confession breaks his heart, and he pulls Steve back in, says with a kiss what he can't find words for. Steve nuzzles his ear, and Danny leans in to him, breathes slowly so he won't go completely over the edge with the force of Steve's emotions. 

"Wanna hike up to the summit?"

"You really want to, don't you?" Danny squints at him. "All right, but if I can't move tomorrow, you're getting the blame."

Steve grins. 

\--

Once they're at the summit, the view is stunning, allowing them to see all the way to the ocean, and Danny tries to imagine growing up in a place like this, surrounded by green and waves and animals instead of concrete and cities. 

Steve's got an ear splitting grin on his face. The wind is ruffling his hair and Danny can't keep his eyes off him, can't stop looking, until Steve notices and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Danny yanks him in, kisses him, on top of a mountain he doesn't know the name of. It's ridiculous but it's also beautiful, Steve's mouth against his own, the wind blowing around the two of them, the sun beaming down. "I love you," Danny says. "I'm going to miss you so much, babe, the phone bill will be astronomical."

"We'll get there," Steve replies, like he's tasting the words on his tongue, trying them out. 

Danny kisses him again. "We need to get home."

"Why?"

"Because I want to spend some quality time with you in a bed, that's why. I'm flying back Monday, gotta take some memories with me."

Steve frowns, and Danny reaches up to smooth the lines away. He leans in to kiss Steve's closed eyes, and Steve makes a soft sound. 

"Come on," Danny says, takes his hand and leads them back the way they came, and Steve intertwines their fingers, doesn't let go. 

\--

Afterwards, Danny falls asleep, and when he wakes he's alone in bed. He makes his way to the living room, feeling the beginning of stiffness in his thigh muscles. Steve is in the kitchen, cooking something that smells like pasta of some sort. 

"Hey, you hungry?"

"Yeah." After all the exercise Danny got, he's hungry, all right. He wanders over to wrap an arm around Steve's waist and press a kiss to his shoulder, pushing Steve's sleeve out of the way with his nose. Steve turns slightly to accommodate him. 

"Danny?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did you tell anyone about me?"

Danny lifts his head. "A few people know. My brother. My partner."

"Not your parents?"

"No." Danny frowns. "Why? I'll tell 'em, babe, but I didn't know what I was gonna find when I got here."

"Yeah." 

Steve turns his attention back to stirring the pan. Danny looks at him in profile. "You wanna tell me what's in that head of yours, Steve?"

Steve shrugs. "It's nothing."

Danny lays a hand on his back, rubs a thumb over his t-shirt. "Okay."

"I was thinking," Steve adds, "I should tell my dad. About you. At some point."

Danny nods slowly. "He knows, right?"

"Yeah." Steve rubs a hand over his face. "He, uh, yeah."

"Hey." Danny waits for Steve to meet his eyes. "He take it okay?"

"I guess."

"You guess?"

Steve shrugs. "We didn't talk about it much. I mean, I was just sent here, and I wasn't looking to talk about it, and he respected that."

"Wait, what? That's it?"

Steve frowns. "Well, yeah."

Danny flaps a hand at him. "You didn't talk about it at all? Babe, they-- what they did, I--" He sucks in a breath. "Did you ask him not to talk about it?"

Steve takes a step back. "We just didn't, Danny, is it such a big fucking deal?"

For a moment, black and red spots dance in front of Danny's eyes, and he clenches his hands and stamps on the impulse to drive his fist into a wall. "They tore your life apart because you had sex with me. Not because you couldn't hack your job, not because you fucked something up, not because you-- I don't know, whatever, did something stupid. You had sex with me. That's a reason to tear you to pieces? Have you seen yourself, babe? I have watched you, this week, drag yourself to work and come home shattered, and I don't know what they're doing to you out there but I want to kill whoever's responsible for it." He sucks in another breath. "Anyone who loves you should want to kill the fucking morons who are putting you through this. Anyone who loves you should be telling you--"

" _Stop_."

Danny stops only because of the anguished tone in Steve's voice. 

"My dad isn't like you, okay, our family isn't like you, it doesn't mean--" Steve leans his hands on the kitchen counter. "Look, the Navy--"

Danny holds up a hand. "If you're going to defend them again I'm walking out that door, Steven. I'm serious. I don't want to hear it."

Steve stares at him. "My father was in the Navy, my grandfather was in the Navy, it's all I've ever known, Danny. It's the only job I ever had, what do you want from me?"

"I want you to admit that this fucking process, the fucking torturous way that they are treating you, is tearing you apart!" 

Steve presses his fist against his mouth. 

"Look, babe, you can love the Navy, but you gotta hate them a little, too, okay, because it's not healthy if you don't." Danny watches as Steve squeezes his eyes shut. "And your dad should tell you that he loves you no matter what."

Steve's knuckles are white from his grip on the kitchen counter. He's not looking at Danny, he's not looking at anything, and Danny is afraid to touch him. Steve takes a slow, deep breath. "You can't ask me that." Danny opens his mouth to respond, but Steve continues. "I get you're pissed, okay, whatever, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that, but I hear you, all right? But you can't ask me to-- Not right now, Danny, this is too fast."

"Steve--"

Steve's tone brooks no argument. "You say I don't need to do anything I don't want to, that includes this." 

Danny takes a few slow breaths, tries to let the anger seep away somewhat. "Okay," he says slowly, "I hear you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

"And anything between me and my dad is between him and me, okay?"

Danny wants to say something about the right way to treat your children, wants to say something about home needing to be a safe space, but he's not stupid and Steve hasn't relinquished his white knuckle grip on the counter. So Danny carefully folds his own anger away, tries to be grateful that apparently Steve's father didn't disown him, and holds out a hand. "Okay. Deal." Steve looks at him, and finally puts his hand in Danny's, and Danny squeezes his fingers. "That dinner salvageable?"

"Oh, fuck."

\--

On Sunday, they don't even bother to get out of bed. Danny snoozes randomly, wakes again when the sun is peeking through the bedroom windows, lifts his head from Steve's stomach. 

"Hey," Steve says, sounding too bemused for his own good, reading a book. 

"You," Danny says with a pointed finger, "don't know how to take the day off."

"I'm relaxing," Steve replies defensively. 

Danny pushes himself up on one elbow to catch sight of the book cover. "You're reading-- what are you reading?" 

"It's a spy novel."

"Jesus."

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. "It's funny."

"Funny?" Danny echoes.

"Yeah. It's unrealistic, it's funny."

Danny blinks. "Wait, how would you know--"

Steve meets his eyes and looks at him quietly. 

"Oh my god. I don't want to know."

Steve smiles, a slow, soft smile that changes his face, and Danny's heart misses a beat as he soaks up that look, basks in it. Steve puts the book away, and Danny turns his head, kisses his skin, feels muscles twitch under his lips. He reaches out to find Steve's hand, to kiss his palm, to feel Steve's fingers touch his face. 

Danny closes his eyes. 

\--

He wakes early to the blaring of an alarm, heart heavy in his chest. Steve is already sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and Danny reaches out, runs his hand over Steve's bare skin. "Hey."

Steve glances over his shoulder, eyes stormy. 

"I know, babe."

"Yeah." Steve clears his throat. "Yeah."

"You go ahead and shower first."

Steve nods without looking at him, and Danny tracks him as he moves across the room, stiff with the burden of emotion. It makes it hard to even think about getting on a plane today, knowing that he's leaving Steve like this. When he came, he'd had no idea that this is what he would find, and now... Danny runs a hand through his hair and forces himself to move, to pack the last few things still lying around, to get himself breakfast and eat it standing at the kitchen counter, and he's just done when Steve comes in, buttoning up his uniform shirt. 

He's gorgeous, he's taking Danny's breath away, and he swallows dryly. "God, babe."

Steve ignores him, says, "Shower's free."

Danny nods, goes off and walks himself through his morning routine, remembers the way they used to say goodbye, and knows there's so much more at stake now. 

When he's done, dressed and with every last item packed, he finds Steve leaning against the kitchen counter, turning his uniform cap over in his hands. 

Danny drops his bag on the floor. "Steve..."

"I'm gonna miss you," Steve says softly, and it sounds like a confession, careful and vulnerable. 

"Me, too," Danny replies, and then just goes over, and Steve meets him halfway, buries his nose in Danny's hair as Danny pulls him close. "We'll make it, babe. I promise."

"I know."

"Yeah?" Danny kisses the side of his head. "Good."

Steve pulls back. "I have to--"

"I know." Danny reaches up, runs his fingers through Steve's hair one last time, watches the pained expression on Steve's face. "I love you. Don't forget that. And promise me you'll call me any time, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I mean it, Steven, I don't care what time it is or if you just called me five minutes before or whatever, you--" he pokes at Steve's chest "--call me."

Steve swats his hand away. "Yes, Danny."

"Good." Danny pulls him down, kisses him, tasting yoghurt. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders, brings him closer and Danny never wants to leave, wants this forever. It takes him a long time before he manages to make himself pull back, to step away from the embrace. 

"Have a good flight, Danny."

"Yeah." He sighs. "Hang in there, babe."

Steve nods, picks up the uniform cap from where he dropped it, and Danny watches as he puts it on and squares his shoulders. The invisible wall that goes up between them hurts. "I've got to--"

"Go," Danny says, and watches him leave.

\--

When he lands in Jersey, it's freezing and he digs his coat out of his bag, pays the fortune he owes in parking charges, and drives himself home. He calls Steve, leaves a message on his voice mail, and lies on his motel room bed, staring at the ceiling. 

It's going to be a long few months. 

His phone rings an hour later, and it's Steve. "I got your message."

"You have a good day?"

"It was okay."

Steve sounds dejected, and Danny misses him already, wants to be able to turn over and pull him close, kiss him and fall asleep with his face against Steve's shoulder, and it's not enough. "We'll get better at this."

"Yeah."

He tries for a little lightness. "Hey, babe, come on. Work with me here."

"Danny, I..." Steve stops.

"Yeah, I know." Danny sighs. "Soon, okay? I'll figure something out with the department, I don't know. It won't be Christmas, I think, but still."

"Yeah?"

"Is that enthusiasm I hear? You gotta work a little harder, babe."

Steve chuckles. "Shut up, Danny."

"We're on the phone. You don't want me to shut up."

"How do you know what I want?"

Danny laughs, stretches out comfortably. "Babe, let me tell you what I know..."

\--

Davison looks at him as soon as he walks in, raises an eyebrow at him, and Danny smiles, realizes that he can't stop, keeps grinning until he sits down in front of her, and she says, "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Danny takes off his coat and sits down. "What did I miss?"

She shrugs. "There was a storm that meant overtime for the whole department, Reynolds spent the next two days looking like he was about to have a coronary, and there's a race on to see who can get time off Christmas."

"Ah." Danny settles into his seat happily. "Nothing changed, then."

Davison smiles. "Not really, no." She dumps a stack of files on his desk. "Oh, and there's a serial arsonist making our life difficult. First fatality while you were gone, so that makes it our case."

"Damn." Danny opens the files, pulls a fresh notepad towards himself, and says, "Get me some coffee, would you?"

His request is met with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, your charms, Detective Williams, I don't know how I survived without them." But she gets up and fetches the coffee anyway.

\--

He knows he has to have this conversation first, doesn't make any of what he's about to do easy. He pulls up in front of the house, Rachel's house now, and it's strange to sit in the car and have it feel less like home than it had when he left. 

He kills the engine, looks at it; it's still Gracie's home and that puts a lump in his throat he swallows away. 

It takes him a while to get out of the car and walk up the drive. Rachel yanks open the door on his first ring. 

"I was wondering when you were going to actually come to the door." 

"Hello to you, too, Rachel."

She raises an eyebrow. "Got out of bed on the wrong side, Daniel?"

Her snide tone makes his anger flare and he can't help but give her a mocking smile. "It was because I had to see you this morning."

She sucks in a breath, her eyes tightening, and Danny can hear himself, suddenly, can hear them, thinks of Grace and makes himself stop. He holds up a hand. "Sorry. Can we start again?"

She purses her lips, but nods curtly. "All right. Why don't you come in?"

He steps inside, follows her to the kitchen, pushes down the sense of wrongness at the familiarity of the house. Rachel glances over her shoulder. "Tea? Or coffee?"

"Coffee," Danny says. He can't remember actually ever drinking the vile stuff she calls tea. 

Rachel busies herself with making the drinks, keeping her back to him until she turns back with two mugs in her hand, putting one on the table in front of him. "I was hoping," she says, running a hand through her dark hair, "that you'd be early, so I could talk to you."

Danny raises an eyebrow. "I am early. But," he rubs a hand over his eyes, "I wanted to talk to you."

Rachel takes a careful seat across from him and sips her tea. "Okay. You can go first."

Danny waves her off. "No, go ahead."

She frowns, but smiles, too, and Danny remembers that look, remembers how he used to love winding her up. It hurts, still, somewhere, but a lot less than it once did. "I... I didn't want you to hear it from Grace, so... I wanted to tell you I'm... I'm seeing someone."

Danny blinks. "You're seeing someone," he repeats blankly. 

"Yes. What-- why are you looking like that?"

"I wanted to talk to you," Danny says slowly, "because I wanted to talk to Grace today, and I didn't want you to hear it from her, but _I'm_ seeing someone."

She laughs, startled, and smiles a little. "I'm glad, Danny. But..."

"Hmm?"

She bites her lip. "It's... It's Stan Edwards."

The jealousy that Danny knows he's not entitled to makes him clench his fists for a moment. "How long has that been going on?"

She cocks an eyebrow at him. "A month, so get off your high horse, Daniel."

Her tone reminds him that he's the one who failed their marriage, and it makes the cold anger in his chest recede. He takes a deep breath. "Rachel..."

Her voice is still testy. "Yes?"

"It's Steve." She blinks, and carefully smoothes her expression. "I'm sorry," Danny adds. "I didn't plan this, I really didn't, I know what it sounds like, but I really did end it."

She traces a finger over the rim of her mug, her hair obscuring her face for a moment before she pushes it out of the way and looks up. "I know."

Danny frowns. "What do you mean, you know?"

She leans back, takes a sip of tea. "I talked to Matt while you were gone." She holds up a hand. "I still detest you for what you did, Danny, but... He told me you really did choose me, because you loved me." She sighs. "Which does not mean I approve of you hooking up with the man you cheated on me with."

Danny nods, knows he deserves that. "I know, I know. Maybe if I had ended it... I should have chosen sooner. I shouldn't have done it. If I hadn't, maybe we--"

Rachel's hand covers his, and he stops talking, looks up to meet her eyes. "We were probably heading there before you started it. I don't know, Danny, things were wrong a long time before."

He hates everything, for a single moment, because he remembers loving her and it hurts, no matter what he has now. "Yeah."

There are footsteps on the stairs, quick and light, and Grace bursts into the room. "Danno!"

Grace is a balm on open wounds, something they've done right regardless of outcome. "Hey, monkey!" He wraps her up in his embrace, lifts her onto his hip. "Boy, I missed you."

"Me, too, Danno!"

Rachel stands and puts her mug in the sink, looks over her shoulder at the two of them. "She said you'd bring her back palm trees."

"Not quite." He puts Grace down. "Go get your stuff, monkey."

"Okay." She skips out of the room again, and Danny looks at her before focusing back on Rachel. 

"I have a huge favor to ask."

She frowns at him. "What is it?"

"I would like to take her to Hawaii for New Year's Eve."

"Hawaii? What on earth has gotten into you?"

"Steve," Danny says with a gesture, "he's out there and he can't get away and come here. I know I have no right to ask you this, and I know, okay, but I really want Grace to meet him and we won't get another chance again soon." He blows out a breath. "Don't make me choose, please."

She raises an eyebrow. "Between your lover and your daughter?"

Danny runs a hand over his hair. "Look, I choose her. Of course I will, jesus, but Steve-- you don't know, Rachel, and you have every reason to hate me, to hate him, but he's going through his worst nightmare right now, and I--"

She holds up a hand. "Danny, what are you talking about?"

"Steve's in the Navy."

"Yes, so?"

"He's losing his job."

Rachel frowns. "Why?"

Danny makes a frustrated gesture. "Because of me! Because he's fucking me, damn it, I'm sorry, but-- they found out, they're putting him through hell, he's--"

"Oh my god." Rachel stares at him. "They're firing him because he's gay."

"Yeah."

"This country, bloody hell, it's like living in the dark ages."

For once, Danny doesn't argue with her. 

"Okay," she says. "Okay, we can work something out. I must be mad, but all right. You can take her for New Year's Eve to bloody Hawaii. Don't make a habit out of it. And if she comes back with one bad word about this man, I swear, Daniel, I'm taking you back to court."

He holds up both hands. "All right, okay, of course. Thanks, Rachel."

\--

Grace swings her legs idly over the edge of the bench, carefully eating her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "Was Hawaii nice, Danno?"

"Yes." He smiles at her. "But... I didn't just go there for a vacation."

She looks up at him, serious-faced, one pigtail dangerously close to her food. Danny moves it out of the way automatically. "Then why?"

"Well..." It's hard to think of how to say this to her. "You know how your mom is sometimes going out with Stan?"

Gracie nods. "She says she likes him. That maybe she likes him like she used to like you. Does that mean that she and uncle Stan are going to have a baby?"

Danny bites his lip. "I don't know, monkey, but I don't think so for now."

She nods again, clearly pondering this. "Okay." 

"I went to Hawaii," Danny continues, "because someone lives there whom I care very much about."

Grace is quiet for a moment, then looks up at him. "Like mommy cares about uncle Stan?"

"Like I used to care about your mom, yes." Danny strokes her hair out of her face. "His name is Steve."

"Okay." She thinks for a moment. "Are you going to marry him?"

Danny blinks, stunned. "Uh, no, monkey. At least, not yet."

She shrugs. "Okay."

"I'm going to go see him again at New Year's Eve. Would you like to come with me to meet him?"

"To Hawaii?" Grace's eyes are shining. "Yes, Danno!"

He has the feeling she's more excited about the location than anything else, but still. He kisses the top of her head. "It's a date."

She takes another bite of her sandwich, chews thoughtfully. "Does that mean you're going to go live in Hawaii?"

"And be away from you? Of course not. Wherever you are, I am, sweetheart." He smiles at her, and she smiles back, making his heart swell. "It might mean Steve will move here, but we don't know yet."

She nods, thinking again, and finally shrugs. "Can I go on the swings now?"

"Finish your lunch first," Danny replies.

\--

"I talked to my sister," Steve says that night. 

"Yeah? What did she say?"

"She yelled at me that I should have called sooner."

Danny can't help smiling. "I think I'd like her, babe."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They're both silent, until Danny says, "I talked to Rachel and Grace."

He catches Steve's short intake of breath. "Oh?"

"Gracie and I are coming to visit at New Year's."

"Really?" 

He can practically sense Steve holding his breath. "Yeah, babe."

"I'm looking forward to it," Steve says, soft. 

"Me, too," Danny replies. "Me, too."

\--

The days are long and slow, and Danny lives for his weekends with Grace and his phone calls with Steve, and if Davison occasionally complains about his attitude, he does try his best not to be a complete ass.

Snow is blanketing Jersey, even their serial arsonist stays indoors, so Danny is grateful to catch up on paperwork, huddled in the squad room with the heating on full blast. His phone rings, and he picks it up, seeing Steve's name on the display. 

"This is awfully early for you, babe."

"Couldn't sleep," is Steve's reply, sounding tired and frustrated. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No. Tell me it's warm over there."

"It's warm," Steve confirms. "Still snowing?"

"Again," Danny says with a sigh. "Do you miss me?"

Though he meant it light-heartedly, Steve's voice is heavy when he responds. "Every day."

"Just a few more weeks."

"And then more months."

Danny runs a hand through his hair. Steve's depression is sinking into his skin, even through the phone, and he struggles not to be pulled under and be morose. "We will get there. Come on, we'll figure something out."

"Yeah."

"You have to go into work today?"

"Yes."

That doesn't surprise Danny. "Call me when you're done, okay? I'll stay up for you."

"Thanks."

"You can thank me when I get to Oahu."

That makes Steve laugh, and Danny smiles. "You'll have your kid with you."

"I don't think it'll scar her to see us kiss, babe."

"I'll talk to you later, Danny."

"You got it."

He hangs up and rubs a hand over his eyes. Davison glances up, pretending she wasn't eavesdropping when Danny knows she was. "He makes you happy," she says. 

"Yeah."

"Then this is just a phase."

"I keep telling myself that," Danny replies. 

\--

The idea that there is an allotted number of hours he's allowed with his daughter on Christmas Day makes Danny spitting mad. He has to consciously pack the anger away, takes Grace to his parents' house, and it's too soon when he has to drop her back off. She gives him a big hug and he tries to take that with him for the rest of the day, but he's suddenly not in the mood to go back to the party just yet. He tries to summon some holiday cheer, but it doesn't work that well when all he's got for distraction is a motel room ceiling or a television showing _It's A Wonderful Life_. 

He resists, he really tries to resist, but he can't, ends up picking up the phone and pressing speed dial. 

The phone rings, once, twice, a third time, and Steve comes on, laughter still in his voice. "Hey, Danny."

"Hey. Where the hell are you? It sounds like a party."

"It kind of is. I'm at a friend's house, someone I went to high school with."

A part of Danny is really happy Steve has someone to be with, and a part is jealous. "Yeah? You're not at your dad's?"

"He's here." There's the sound of a door closing, and the background noise is muffled. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Danny says, gesturing with his free hand. "I'm dandy, why wouldn't I be?"

"You sound..." Steve trails off. 

"What do I sound like, Steven? Huh? Tell me what I sound like."

Steve sighs. "Like you're picking a fight with me."

"I don't pick fights. I have legitimate grievances."

"Whatever, Danny."

They're both silent for a bit, and Danny finally says, "Okay, so I hate my life right now."

"I know."

"No, you really don't. This isn't about you. Well, it's not just about you, because I also fucking hate that I can't be with you at Christmas and jesus, Steve, I'd give a lot to just be able to kiss you right now."

Steve is silent for a beat. "Me, too," he says quietly. 

"Yeah?" Danny feels warmth spread in his chest. "Didn't sound like you were missing me much before."

"What, I can't celebrate Christmas now? Chin's an old friend, Danny, it's not--"

"I'm sorry," Danny cuts in before things can get out of hand. "I didn't mean it, Steve, I'm just..."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you're not alone." He runs a hand through his hair. "I miss you."

"Me, too." Steve's voice is low. "Danny, I--" The background noises ratchets up again and Steve says, "Hang on," before clearly covering the phone with his hand and conferring with someone.

He comes back on the line as the noise recedes. "Hey, Danny? You keep telling me we're going to get through this, so this time, it's my turn. We're getting through this. One day at a time, but we're gonna do this, you hear me?"

"Yeah." Danny takes a deep breath, wants to punch something, the words not doing enough to stop that urge. 

"I don't know what the future looks like, but I love you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now go be with your family." Steve sounds so sure and strong, Danny closes his eyes and tries to imagine being right there with him, and it tears him apart for a moment. They've lived on the other end of phone lines for too long. "I know you miss your kid, I get it, but being alone isn't good for you, Danny."

"When did you get to be so smartass?"

"Shut up, Danny."

"What did I tell you about silences and phone lines, huh?" But he's smiling, he's smiling alongside everything that's wrong. "You never learn, Steven."

"I'll teach you next I see you."

"Empty threats."

Steve laughs. "Keep thinking that, Danny." 

Danny sits up, reaches for his coat. "Okay, I'm going to go be morose at my parents' house. You have fun with your friends and your dad, yeah?"

"Call me when you need to."

"I will," Danny promises, swallowing hard. "I will."

\--

Gracie wants a window seat, her big smile charming the flight attendants, and Danny lets her point out landmarks to him, even though he knows them better than she does. She's babbling excitedly, and at this rate, she won't make it to midnight given the time difference, but Danny figures he can always wake her up for it. 

The flight is long and he finds it difficult to sit still, knowing what's at the end of it. Grace is happily coloring in her book, a purple My Little Pony taking shape, and Danny lets it distract him until they announce arrival. 

The airport is big, and it's easy to walk by himself but Grace gets tired, so he hoists her up to his hip, shoulders her bag alongside his own, and walks her to the main hall. 

"Is uncle Steve meeting us here?"

Like a good five year old, she'd stuck 'uncle' to Steve's name automatically, and Danny isn't sure how Steve's going to feel about that. Oh well, it's one of many things he's going to have to deal with, Danny suspects. "Yes."

"What does he look like, Danno? I can help you search for him."

It makes Danny smile. "He's tall, monkey."

"Lots of people are tall, Daddy." 

"Yeah." Danny scans the hall, catches sight of Steve easily; six feet of t-shirt and cargo pants, making Danny's heart skip a beat. Steve sees him, smiles tentatively, and makes his way over.

"Hey."

"Hey," Danny replies, unable to stop grinning. "This is Grace."

"Hello, Gracie. I'm Steve." 

He holds out a hand to her, and Grace frowns, tilts her head, and reaches out to put her tiny hand in his. "Hello, uncle Steve."

Steve blinks in hilarious confusion and replies, "Nice to meet you finally."

Danny laughs. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay. You wanna give me those bags?"

"Sure." Danny hands them over and their fingers touch; Danny holds Steve's gaze for a second, and Steve rubs his thumb over the back of Danny's hand. For a moment, Danny's breath catches.

"Did you like flying, Grace?"

She shrugs. "It was boring."

Steve's face is priceless. Danny takes pity on him. "She's flown before, Steve."

"Ah." Steve tries again. "Ever flown in a helicopter, Grace?"

This gets him an interested look. "No..."

"Maybe I'll take you up some day, how about that?"

Danny turns sideways to stare at him. "Wait, what?"

"You fly helicopters?" Grace asks excitedly.

"Yes." He grins at her, then at Danny. "What? You never asked."

"You are a crazy, crazy man," Danny says, shaking his head. 

\--

When they get to Steve's place, Grace takes a look around, shrugs, and settles on the sofa. 

"Why don't you go change into something lighter, monkey?"

She looks up and nods. "Okay."

When she skips off into the bedroom, Danny turns to Steve, who's hesitating by the door. "Come here, jesus." Steve pushes off and comes over, and Danny pulls him in, wraps his arms around him and presses his face into Steve's hair. "God, I missed you."

"Yeah." Steve leans back, and Danny knows, kisses him soundly before Steve has to ask. 

"Just so you know, I'm not ashamed to kiss you in front of my daughter. Anything else, yes, obviously, but this is nothing we need to hide. She knows what we are."

"Okay." Steve ducks his head, then looks at Danny from under his lashes, making Danny's breath catch, and Steve tilts his head and kisses him again, softer, slower, until Danny makes a protesting noise. 

"Tall," he complains. 

"Didn't bother you last time."

"Don't use desperation against me."

Steve laughs, and Danny traces his fingers over that smile. The bedroom door opens and Grace skips back in, stopping for a moment to watch them. Danny pulls his hand back as Steve freezes awkwardly against him. 

Grace doesn't look fazed. "Danno, can we go look at the palm trees?"

"Sure, monkey." 

"Uncle Steve, do you want to come?"

Steve steps around Danny, kneels in front of Grace, and smiles at her in a way that steals Danny's breath away. "Of course I do, Gracie."

\--

Steve is Grace's new favorite person when he buys her pineapple shave ice, and Danny is the one who gets to wipe her face after. She falls asleep in the car on the way back, and Danny carries her into the bedroom and tucks her in. 

"We'll have to work out sleeping arrangements."

"I don't think we'll do much sleeping," Danny replies, catches sight of Steve's face and amends, "Not like that, jerk."

Steve grins. 

"You play dirty," Danny says with a pointed finger. "In any case, Grace can have the sofa, she fits, unlike you and me."

"She won't mind?"

"Steve, she's five. She sleeps where she drops off." Steve's face does something comical and Danny holds out a hand. "You'll learn."

"Yeah." Steve comes over, leans against the window sill to face Danny. "I need to talk to you about something."

Danny searches his face, but Steve is good at not giving much away when he wants to. "Okay, ominous."

"It's... well, I think it's something good."

Somehow, he seems too nervous for it to be anything good. Danny tamps down on his own suspicions, reaches out to tangle Steve's fingers with his own. "Tell me."

"You know I spent Christmas with an old friend? He's an old partner of my dad's, really, but we went to the same school, it's-- anyway, he, uh, he knows someone at Homeland Security, and he said they're hiring people to train as air marshals."

Danny's eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, wait, this is about a job? You interested?"

Steve nods, corners of his mouth quirking in a not-quite-smile. "I met with the guy at the department here yesterday, and-- I didn't want to tell you over the phone, because maybe it wouldn't work out, but... they want to hire me."

Danny squeezes his hand, has a few choice thoughts about secretive Navy officers sneaking around behind his back. "You had an actual offer? And they're okay with waiting on the Navy?"

"Yeah."

"Steve--" Danny doesn't know what to say. 

"You like it?" Steve squints at him. "Danny?"

"Yeah, I like it." Danny finds himself grinning. "It's great, babe, it's awesome. Come here." He kisses Steve softly. 

"I thought," Steve says, "maybe, we should talk about it."

"Talk about it?"

Steve shrugs. "I don't know, Danny, I don't really-- I haven't done this before, so. I mean, I was a SEAL before, so I guess--"

"Hey, hold up, for the mortals among us, what are you talking about?"

"It's a dangerous job, Danny, and it's long hours and I'd be away from home a lot."

Something occurs to Danny and his blood runs cold. "Tell me something. This job, you'd be stationed here?"

Steve's eyebrows shoot up and he shakes his head. "No, no, Danny, I talked to them about that, I can be stationed in New York."

The vise around his heart falls away. "Okay. Okay. Then, then I think you should totally take it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I work long hours at a dangerous job, too, babe, that's not gonna faze either of us, is it?"

Steve smiles. "No."

"Tell me something else. This could make you happy? Because I don't want you to take a job because it's there now and you need one. I don't--"

Steve grabs his hand, and Danny closes his mouth. "I want this job, Danny. I'm qualified, I like it, I want it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then shut up and kiss me."

Steve obliges.

\--

"Hey, Gracie." 

He shakes her shoulder. She's groggy when she surfaces, rubs at her eyes. "Danno?"

"Yeah, baby. It's nearly midnight, the fireworks are gonna be soon."

"Okay." She climbs off the sofa carefully, takes a sip of the lemonade she'd left standing on the table, and spots Steve. "Hi, Uncle Steve."

"Hey, Gracie. Why don't you come by the window to take a good look?"

She ambles over, and when she stands tiptoe to look out, Steve picks her up easily and settles her on his lap. "This better for you?"

"Sure," Grace says happily.

Danny's heart is too big for his chest. He swallows hard as he goes over, stands behind Steve and feels him lean back against him. Steve tilts his head back to look at him, and Danny meets those liquid eyes. 

Somewhere, a clock strikes midnight, and after a second, the whistling sounds of the first fireworks fill the city, followed by a riot of color in the sky, loud bangs muffled by the glass. 

"Happy New Year, Danno!" Grace says, and Danny leans in to kiss her cheek. 

"Happy New Year, monkey."

Steve says, voice a little hoarse, "Happy New Year, Danno."

Danny raises an eyebrow at the familiar term of address, but bends to kiss Steve, upside down, the flashing strobes of light reflecting in Steve's eyes. 

"Welcome to 2008, babe. It's gonna be a good one."

Steve smiles.

\--

_June 2, 2008_

The sound of the key turning in the lock is Danny's first warning, then he hears the door open, a bag dropped on the floor, the door closing again. He steps out of the master bedroom and leans down over the banister. "I'm up here."

"Yo," Steve replies articulately. 

Danny grins, can't help himself, listens to Steve's footsteps as he climbs the stairs. Finally he comes into view, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, looking mouth-wateringly gorgeous, and Danny swallows. "Hey, babe."

"Hey, yourself." Steve leans in for a kiss when he's still two steps from the landing, putting them on more or less equal height. Danny takes full advantage of this opportunity.

"How did it go?"

Steve shrugs. "Was just a formality."

"You okay?"

Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess. It's over, at least." 

Danny runs a hand over Steve's arm, and smiles when Steve tangles their fingers together. "You ready to do this?"

"Move in with you? How hard can it be?" Danny twitches, wants to poke him but Steve tightens his grip on his hand. "I'm ready, Danny. New life and all."

"I'm sorry about the Navy."

"Not as sorry as I am." Steve blows out a breath, seems to shake it off. "It's in the past now." He smiles. "Grace coming this weekend?"

"Yep."

"You done unpacking yet?"

"I've put your boxes in the corner since I have no idea what to do with your stuff. You're getting the left side of the wardrobe, by the way." Steve raises an eyebrow. "What? I have to decide these things by myself since you weren't here yet."

Steve looks like he's smothering some amusement. "It's fine, Danny. I'm here now." 

"Well, expect to be roped into painting, Grace mentioned something about wanting a pink room."

Steve grins. "Did she? We'll have to arrange that, then."

With all the things they dealt with over the last few months, one of the highlights has been how much Steve took to Grace and vice versa. "I'll leave the two of you in charge."

"We'll manage."

Danny grins. "Fantastic. In the mean time, there's something much more important."

Steve frowns. "What?"

"The bed got delivered."

Steve's eyes widen and he grins back. " _Oh_."

"Yeah."

In a second, Steve is walking him backwards until Danny's up against the wall, kissing him messily. "Obsessed," Danny murmurs against his mouth, "it's unhealthy-- Steve--" 

Then he gives up trying to talk, steers Steve towards the actual bedroom before they miss the entire point of this exercise. They collide against the doorframe, stumbling over the threshold as Steve gets distracted by Danny's neck. 

"We need to get better at navigating," Danny complains as he avoids tripping over the box he was unpacking. 

"New house," Steve mumbles, hands slipping under Danny's t-shirt, long fingers warm against his skin. 

"Still, you're supposed to be all perf--"

Steve pulls back. "Shut up, Danny."

"What did I tell you about that? Huh? What did I--"

Steve cuts him off by kissing him.

\--  
 _finis._


End file.
